The Vulcan
by StarTrekFanWriter
Summary: Pre-Movie: Due to accusations of misconduct he cannot deny Spock is scheduled to be placed under observation. Pike offers him a position on the Farragut and a chance to start over. Action/Sci-Fi/Romance, Spock/Uhura, Pike, Number One
1. Bonded

**Disclaimer: I don't own Nyota / Spock or the Academy**

Thanks to my Beta Reader Notes from the Classroom

This is a sequel to "Descartes Error"...but I will try to make it understandable without having read Descartes. If you want the gist of Descartes just read Breakdown/Absolution, Shattered/Appearance of Impropriety/The Vulcan comes out and you'll get the gist of their romance. Of course, I like Love Bites/Lost in Translation a lot myself. And Schindler, Sugihar, Bhat and Kalanel. (All of these chapters are relatively short. I hardly ever write more than 3,000 words at a time.)

**Bonded**

It began in the pit of Nyota's stomach, a seed of cold that germinated into long tendrils of dread. It spread from there to her chest and up her throat. She physically shivered.

What was wrong with her? Was this an anxiety attack? She did not get anxiety attacks. The very idea was repellent to her.

She looked to the windows of the lecture hall, half expecting to see thunder clouds outside...perhaps a change in air pressure was to blame...but almost mockingly it was an unusually bright, clear sunny day.

She lost focus on the lecturer's words and began to lecture herself.

Nyota, you do not get anxiety attacks. You do not get anxiety attacks.

You cannot get anxiety attacks if you're going to be a communications officer on the bridge of a starship, Nyota!

And then the fear gradually changed to anger. The cold feeling turned to heat and she wanted to physically attack someone. She sat at her desk and breathed deeply.

"Nyota, are you alright?" Cadet Ashanti Patel whispered from the seat next to her.

"I'm fine," she hissed.

Hearing Ashanti's sharp intake of breath, Nyota brought her hand to her forehead and whispered, "I'm sorry."

The lecturer's eyes shot in their direction. Nyota bit back an urge to yell at him.

What was wrong with her? She wanted to kill. Better than being afraid, she thought ruefully.

Her jaw clenched. Her breathing did not return to normal. She did her best not to squirm, tap her feet, or jiggle her stylus on her PADD. She just had to make it without exploding until the lecture was over.

As soon as the bell chimed she bolted out of her seat. She did not pause to say goodbye to Ashanti. She was afraid it might come out a scream.

Exiting the lecture hall she caught her breath. There was Spock, standing in the corridor, arms parked behind his back, his face completely unreadable. There was no playful quirk of his lips, no tilt of his head, no flirtatious eyebrow.

The anger turned to dread again in a heart beat. This was not good.

"Cadet Uhura, please come with me," he said as cadets streamed out into the hall around her.

She nodded dumbly. Turning on his heel he started to walk briskly down the hall. Nyota tried to get in step with him and found herself having to nearly jog to keep up.

"Lieutenant Commander, where are we..." she began.

"Please refrain from questioning me," he said in a voice that she hadn't heard in months...not since...

Abruptly he turned into a small dark conference room. It was really only the size of an overgrown closet. It was primarily used by visiting professors to counsel students. There was a small table with soft padded chairs around it. There were no windows. And more importantly...

She saw Spock visually confirm that there were no cameras. Typically they weren't in offices like this; they tended to be mainly in public areas...but he was checking.

Seemingly satisfied, Spock turned and faced her, putting his arms behind his back. The situation might have been slightly erotic -- alone with him in an unmonitored room. If the door wasn't open...

"Computer, please close and lock door," Spock said.

His manner was so stiff that she didn't break from standing at attention.

"Nyota..."

Her body relaxed; this was a personal conversation after all. Why did she still have a lump in her throat?

She took a step towards him, "Yes?"

Looking down at the ground, he took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She could see that he was trying to maintain his calm.

She brought a hand up to touch his cheek and he drew back.

Lifting his eyes to meet hers, he said with icy reserve, "Nyota, I have been accused of professional misconduct. Specifically of being in an inappropriate relationship with you."

Nyota's heart stopped. "What? Based on what evidence?"

"My behavior before your delivery of the transmission was deemed inappropriate by the Vulcan Interspecies Council. Apparently they requested I be questioned by Commander Sharpton...and put under observation no matter what the outcome of that questioning."

Put under observation? To have his movements and conversations monitored by comm no matter whether he was guilty or not. She'd heard it described as worse than jail time.

"You touched my wrist!"

"No doubt that is not the only transgression they deem me guilty of committing," Spock said softly. Did his voice reverberate slightly in anger as he said that?

Nyota remembered the time he had taken on members of the Vulcan Science Academy a year ago, how he dared voice the opinion that humans might not be inferior. She remembered they'd taken offense to his presentation style that day...his presentation style! They saw it as theater and unbecoming of a Vulcan.

Then there was Tyback...the 'disadvantaged' Vulcan the Council did not approve of. She and Spock had befriended Tyback and basically assured that he would be accepted into Starfleet.

...and Spock's name was on her paper that indirectly questioned whether the adoption of Surak's teachings weren't motivated by biology rather than conscious choice...

What had T'Lan said? Something to the effect that it wasn't what Spock did...it was what he was...a successful Vulcan human hybrid and therefore a threat.

But still...

"This is ridiculous!" she said. "There must be a way out of this."

"If I were to go forward and publicly deny their accusations, yes, there might be a way out. Nyota, I could not..."

He stopped, bowed his head. She saw his jaw clenching. "Forgive me, Nyota, I cannot."

She swallowed. Had he confessed? Were their careers in jeopardy?

"Your career and reputation is secure," he said as if in response to her thoughts. "As is mine. The Commander...I confessed to nothing, but neither could I deny. She has taken it upon herself to deny the charges. Nonetheless, an observation period is almost a foregone conclusion."

His Vulcan reserve and maybe his near inability to lie had prevented him from going forward and publicly denying the accusations. If he had gone public, even with a denial--that attention might have been worse for her career, she realized. He'd probably saved what she had of a reputation...and taken all the weight upon himself.

Observation. Nyota swallowed again. "For how long?"

"I do not know." His jaw was clenched even as he spoke and his nostrils flared. "They will be meeting and discussing my case in approximately one hour and fifteen minutes."

He took a deep breath. "Obviously, we will have to forgo the physical nature of our relationship until the observation period is over. And communication between us...will be necessarily limited. In addition, it is not just our reputations on the line any more. The Commander's is as well. We are under direct orders to not 'fuck up'."

His voice was laced with venom as he spoke. Nyota was sure he was not angry with the Commander, but the situation was intolerable and unjust.

"Nyota, I would understand," he stopped and took a deep breath, "if you decided that you no longer want to continue this relationship..."

Her brow furrowed; she inhaled sharply. How dare he presume she was so weak? "Spock..."

"Let me finish." His head tilted, his jaw was tight, his eyes burned. "You are human...and we are not officially bonded; we are not permanently linked..."

Was this about her weakness or his need to bond? She snapped, "Then bond with me. Now."

His mouth dropped. She saw something in his gaze. Desire? Anger? He took a step towards her, so that their bodies were almost touching. "Now is not an ideal time..." he whispered, his voice rough.

She put her hands on his chest. Met his eyes. "There may be no other ideal time for a long while, my Spock."

He looked away for a moment and then turned to face her. He took a deep breath and she felt a trembling beneath her hand as he exhaled.

"Are you sure you want this?" He asked. "You would risk this for me?"

Was she sure? She was barely twenty one years old. "Yes," she said. She was surprised by how assured her voice sounded. "Yes, I'm sure."

He brought his hand up to touch her face, stroked her cheek gently -- but with the back of his fingertips only. That was odd. He was not establishing an empathetic link right away. Maybe because he needed to save his strength for the mind meld?

She didn't question. Lacing one arm around his back and one behind his neck she pulled his head in for a kiss.

He responded hungrily. Their mouths moved together and he gently broke through the walls of her lips with his tongue, as always slightly dry and fever hot. Even after such a long time together she was still sometimes shocked by how inhumanly warm he was. His taste, his warmth; it made her core go hot.

His fingers danced down the side of her cheek, still with the pads facing away from her.

He pulled back from the kiss too quickly. "You must give me a minute."

Letting her arms drop, she nodded.

He backed away from her and turned away.

Staring at his back she listened as he began to breathe deeply -- in for fourteen seconds, out for twenty four...

She didn't know how long she stood there. Starting to get anxious, she moved towards him slowly.

Turning around, he swallowed. His face was still tense, his jaw still clenched. "Now is the only time..." he murmured. He took a deep breath and reached towards her with an outstretched hand.

She walked into his fingertips. Felt his hand come down in an unfamiliar way on her temple, her cheek, her chin...

And then she felt...nothing.

He was staring directly in her eyes. He was holding back, shielding her, she knew. "Nyota, I do not know if...now..."

He didn't have to worry. She would show him.

Setting her jaw she closed her eyes and nudged, just as she had their first night together. She let herself imagine her mind slipping across the bridge of his fingers...

It was not a good idea.

Spock had never melded with her before. They had always shared emotions and physiological states through a simple empathetic link at the temples or the fingertips.

This was different.

She felt herself falling into his thoughts, into him...

And it was a very dark place.

Below her was a Vulcan boy. Her fists were raining down on him, bludgeoning him over and over. There were bruises on his eyes, his lips were bleeding, and she did not stop. Would not stop. Her vision was black and green and hazy; she wanted to pummel the boy until...until...

Arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her from the other boy; she struggled against the arms, struggled to grab the boy...

In the desert a monster...she wanted to kill...must not _want_...wanted to kill....

A committee of old men, her father, "...your disadvantage..." She wanted to scream, wanted to rip them to pieces, standing still as though it was all alright...letting her tongue twist to say words calmly and smoothly as a snake...

Lieutenant Commander Patrick O'Hara dancing with...her...across the room. Across a desert. Unable to touch...hands clenching...heart burning...

A man sitting across from her at a bar...trying to take her away. Wanting...it is incorrect to _want_...wanting to cause him exquisite pain...

Commander Sharpton saying, "I knew, of course, you would have a perfectly logical explanation." If a human could do it...rage...

Staring at herself, below her, hanging onto the edge of a cliff above blackness and green. Watching her legs dangle, her face twist. "Nyota," said the voice that wasn't her own. That was Spock. So angry...vision black and green...fury...madness...so angry and trying to reach, "Nyota...."

The vision of her began to slip...fingers from the rock. Building rage...building panic...why couldn't her hands reach, grab hold of herself...fury at herself...no, it was Spock's fury at himself...

She watched the vision of herself losing hold of the cliff and falling into darkness and green.

A primordial cry of rage and anguish ripped through her chest.

x x x x x x x x x

She was encircled by warm arms behind her back, beneath her knees. Her head rested against something firm and warm. She shifted.

"Nyota?"

She knew where she was. She was in Spock's arms. She hadn't been there for weeks. So warm. So pleasant. Just nice to be home.

"Nyota? Please forgive me."

She opened her eyes. Smiled. "Spock." Lifted a hand to his face.

"Nyota?" He removed the hand from beneath her knees and brought it to her temples. She felt a wave of relief wash through her.

Relieved? Why was he so relieved? And then it all came back to her. She looked around; they were still in the small conference room. Spock was sitting with her on a chair.

"Are we bonded?"

She knew the answer the moment she asked. He looked down at her. She felt a sensation of anguish rush through the link. "We are not," she said so he wouldn't have to.

"I have failed," he replied. "I..."

"Shhhhhhh....Spock....it will be alright." She felt a headache begin to settle into her forehead, felt her stomach start to drop. "We'll be fine. You'll see. I'm not ready to give up."

Pressing her tightly to his chest he said softly, "We don't have much time...another ten minutes and I must leave..."

She nodded numbly. Her eyes were dry. She had no tears. She just wanted to bury herself into him. She pressed her face more tightly against him. Then she remembered there was something he might like more.

Pulling herself a bit away from his body, she reached up and grabbed the back of his head. Bringing his forehead down to touch hers, she heard his breath hitch.

Tears began to burn in her eyes. She closed her eyes tightly and held them back. She would not let herself cry.

After a time that was both indefinitely long and far too short, he whispered, "I must go."

She nodded and stood; the arm around her back did not leave her. Standing beside her he looked down at her for a moment and kissed her too gently.

He swallowed and nodded, eyes locked on her the whole time, hardly blinking.

Her back was to the door. He stepped to the side and away from her abruptly.

"Computer, unlock and open door," Spock said.

Turning, she watched the set of his shoulders and the points of his ears as he walked down the hall, never once looking back.

And then he was gone.

**A/N:**

Hi everyone -

This is a very angsty chapter...but I am a true believer in life being both sweet and sour. Promise to work realistic humor into following chapters. And even when Spock and Nyota are apart I'll be sure to work in some Spock and Nyota together goodness.

Reviews are like credits for us FanFiction writers. If you read and enjoyed, please let me know.


	2. The Stranger

**Disclaimer: I don't Spock or Nyota**

Thanks to Beta reader Notes from the Classroom...although I made some changes to story post revs...mistakes are mine!/To new readers, you don't really have to read Descartes to understand this story.

**The Stranger**  
Nyota managed to stumble through the rest of her day. The dull ache in her head turned into a blinding migraine -- at least, she thought it was a migraine. She didn't get migraines. Just like she didn't get anxiety attacks. At the end of classes she skipped dinner and made her way back to the dorm just in time to throw up and fall down into her bed. She should not have been able to sleep -- not after the events of the day and with the pain in her head...but strangely, and mercifully, she passed out immediately.

She awoke two more times to dry heaves after angry dreams of green blood and the taste of adrenaline in her mouth...but each time she fell back to sleep right away.

The next day the pain in her head had subsided to a dull ache. She took some painkillers and reported to Spock's laboratory to fulfill the requirements of her assistantship. She entered the lab holding her breath. Not sure what to say...and then she exhaled slowly and sadly. The room was empty. For the first time she almost felt like crying.

Gazing around at the 3D consoles, workstations and the subspace transmitter simulators, her eyes fell to rest on the couch at the back of his lab. Standard issue, really, for all of the science labs. Students were always passing out on them as they worked on projects late into the night.

She wondered if it weren't partially responsible for her predicament. It was when she was sleeping on the couch that she had really developed her first feelings of affection and attraction to Spock.

During her first year at the academy she started sleeping on that particular piece of furniture every twenty days -- when her Orion roommate's raging hormones too often meant sharing their dorm room with guests. Emphasis on _guests_ -- plural.

The first time she slept on the couch she woke up at exactly 06:30 to find she was not alone. She had not known he usually arrived at the lab at 05:00...After she explained her predicament he didn't reprimand her -- even though it wasn't his lab work that had caused her to sleep in the science building. He merely suggested if she was going to make it a habit she should bring a pillow and a blanket.

She took that to be logical concern for seeing that she was well rested for her work in his lab.

She did make it a habit; it was more comfortable and secure than the library. She gradually became aware of him occasionally looking over her while she slept. She always pretended to be asleep. She imagined he did it only out of some gentle Vulcan benevolence and caring. He never touched her, never moved too close. Nyota found it comforting. It made her feel safe and protected, which actually was arousing in its own quiet way...but she initially didn't read anything into it.

Her roommate, Gaila had disagreed. "He wants to do you. Really, believe me. Orions practically emerge from the womb knowing everything sexual and romantic about every species in the galaxy. It's been bred into us for millennia."

"Vulcans aren't...romantic, Gaila," Nyota responded.

"Ny, did I say romantic? Because they're not, not in the human sense of the word, at least. But they are a passionate species underneath. Violent. Possessively kinky. And freakishly territorial."

Nyota's mouth dropped open at the cognitive dissonance conjured up by the image of slightly stiff, always inexpressive Lieutenant Spock with the words passionate, violent and possessively kinky.

Gaila misread her expression. "Yes, supposedly a Vulcan in lust is an awe-inspiring thing." Her Orion friend wrinkled up her nose, "But they are also horribly monogamous and mate for life."

Gaila uttered these last words with disgust...and the tone was only half in jest.

It turned out that Gaila was right, though. Well, except for the monogamy part. Spock was half human, after all -- he had not entered his relationship with Nyota inexperienced. However, he wasn't experienced with the violent, possessive aspect of his sexuality. That had come as a surprise to him as much as her. Apparently, when it came to life partners Vulcans felt a need to mark their claim. And to be marked. She would never have thought herself capable of the type of passion he needed occasionally, but it had worked itself out, mainly due to their empathic link. It let her experience his physiological reactions with him, and vice versa...it had been incredibly intense. She found herself biting her bottom lip at the memory.

Commander Sharpton's voice from behind jarred her out of her reverie. Nyota turned and snapped to attention.

"Cadet Uhura, Lieutenant Spock is working with Professor Matsumura on the Kobayashi Maru simulation.

"He has informed me that you have more than met the requirements of your assistantship for this semester...and provided sufficient documentation to prove it to anyone who might question his assessment," she added. "Follow me into his office. We need to talk."

It could have been much worse. The Commander didn't ask questions. Nor did she make accusations. She must have known she didn't have to come down hard on Nyota. Nyota was perfectly capable of doing that herself.

They had occasionally been on a first name basis before. Not now.

And the Commander had invited Nyota to her home on more than one occasion -- she'd gone out of her way to make Nyota feel like she belonged in this department, like she was family. Commander Sharpton had shared Nyota's enthusiasm for the Romulan transmission. And it was Commander Sharpton who convinced, or rather ordered, Spock to study the ancient radio signal Nyota had discovered. The Commander rarely talked to Nyota without a hint of affection in her voice. That was gone.

The Commander's last words to Nyota were, "Both your records are clear. But the Vulcans believe Spock's logic and rationality are compromised." She sighed. "He has been placed under observation for six months. You got a second chance, Cadet Uhura. Don't fuck it up. Dismissed."

Through her shame Nyota realized she'd gleaned two important pieces of information from the conversation. First was the length of his observation period. Second, it hadn't been about inappropriate actions in public. Not really. It really was about Spock's logic contradicting the established beliefs of the Vulcans...hence their conclusions that his logic and rationality were compromised.

Nyota left the office not knowing when she would see Spock again.

She was shocked when he approached her from behind and fell into stride beside her as she passed the computer sciences building. "Cadet Uhura," he asked in his most clipped, professional tones, "I hope you are well."

Nyota stopped and turned to face him. His jaw was set...but his eyes searched her face. He was worried about her. She could not trouble him with the post mind meld headache and vomiting -- and she wouldn't have even if they weren't being listened to. What could he say, what could he do if she did tell him?

"I am well, Lieutenant Commander Spock. I am just on my way to my phonology class. We are currently studying a race of pre-warp hominoids that have the most interesting split palate. They make the most extraordinary sounds."

He began to walk in the direction she'd been heading. He spoke in cold precise words, "Ah, yes, the Xenolixions. Were you aware that Federation Scientists were able to reconstruct their language from their radio broadcasts alone?"

He was being monitored. And he was choosing to talk to her. And he was giving them the perfect, reserved, cold, emotionless Vulcan.

Nyota suddenly knew what he was doing. Before they had been found out, they had curtailed their meetings on campus. There had begun to be talk about impropriety. But now...they were being listened to. No one could accuse them of any impropriety in these conversations because they were all recorded.

It was a subtle "up yours."

The anger she felt yesterday came back. She would play this game. Screw them all. "Why, yes, I was aware of that, Lieutenant Commander. Supposedly they have also been able to construct the anatomy of the entire Xenolixian upper body from the sounds they emit alone..."

x x x x x x x

The game got old fast. The cold crisp tones. The conversations that never wavered from the factual. He wasn't her Spock anymore.

They used to slip between languages as easily as water sliding between rocks.

They used to try to make the other trip over their tongue. Spock had a better memory for words, but Nyota had a better ear. The Trill word for economy? Very close to the Trill word for shoes. The Orion word for star? Very close to the Orion word for hiccup. The Ferrengi word for snail? Impossible for a human to pronounce...it always came out earwax, the lowest of Ferrengi swears.

Their conversations used to be filled with innuendo. The Andorian word for join? Also an Andorian slang word for kiss. _Join me for a snack, Nyota?_

And Spock used to go out of his way to make her laugh....now...humor wasn't seen as logical by Vulcans, so he stopped. He hardly even raised his eyebrows. He never quirked his lips.

He was the Spock she knew before he kissed her that first awful night and then walked her back to her dorm.

They quickly reverted to email...using off campus machines and non-Academy addresses of course. The trouble was, Spock was only slightly more successful at expressing emotions in written form than he was vocally. Usually he just responded to her emotions.

In her first email to him she wrote: _I worry about you, how you're doing, how you're taking this...it is unfair that a human act of kindness was judged by Vulcan standards, and not for the stated reasons at all, but because you've dared differ from the consensus..._

To which he responded_: Do not worry, my Nyota. What is, is._

...which really didn't say how he was taking it at all. She wanted to write back _Stupid, stoic Vulcan..._but resisted the urge. The most likely reason he wasn't responding was that he wasn't well. Just as she had never complained of the three day headache she had suffered after their attempt to meld.

It was only in the gym that she truly saw how he was faring. One day from afar Nyota saw Spock mauling a punching bag...mauling was the only word for it. He was a whirlwind of feet and hands. All the anger and the frustration she'd seen in the meld was there. Did he feel the situation was unjust? Of course he did. Was he sad...probably. But mostly he was furious. She remembered her last thoughts from the meld...his inability to reach her.

He was mostly furious with himself.

Nyota thought about approaching him in the gym but decided against it. It seemed better to let him have this time to let loose. She wasn't sure if seeing her would make him feel any better.

In his emails Spock began to mention his meetings with Captain Pike. He had never considered going active in the fleet before...but...

Nyota remembered Spock in Africa with elephants, in Muir Woods among the radiation-mutated trees, his fascination with banana slugs, their many trips outside the city together...she remembered when they'd been approached by thugs in an alley one time and Spock had shown absolutely no fear. Even her brother Jabari had commented that Spock was good in a fight, and he would know.

Spock possessed both deep scientific curiosity and the ability to stay calm in an emergency situation. She wrote him back, told him she thought it suited him...even if she would miss him.

And in a way it wasn't like she'd be losing him. She already had.

A week before the semester ended Spock approached her on the quad. "Cadet Uhura," he said, "It is customary on Earth to reward achievement of one's subordinates with a meal."

He was spelling it out for whatever back-room computer was recording his every word.

"I think your achievement this semester has warranted such an outing. If you are free, I will treat you to lunch at Francesca's," he said. He didn't even tilt his head.

Of course she was free. He knew her schedule.

She wasn't surprised when he told her he had decided to take Captain Pike up on an offer for a six month deployment aboard the Farragut as chief science officer. She was surprised, though, when he put his hand over the comlink on his chest, then pointed upward and shook his head to say, "No."

He wouldn't be monitored aboard the Farragut.

She'd cried about their situation before. Always alone. For the first time she welled up in front of him. Hot tears spilling down her cheeks, Nyota smiled and nodded. "That sounds wonderful."

**A/N:**  
Thank you everyone for the reviews! Please do keep them coming...It really helps me keep going.

This chapter is in direct response to a frustrated reviewer who told me I had to let you all know how Nyota was doing.

For any new readers Jabari is in Descartes Chapter 43 "Arrivals". I always thought that segment of Descartes was incredibly fun. Mad Dogs and Romulans!!! But you don't really have to read it to understand this story. (Jabari is probably my favorite OC, him and Rhinea…)


	3. Goodbyes

**Disclaimer: I do not own Spock/Nyota/or Starfleet******

**Goodbyes****  
**  
Lieutenant Commander Patrick O'Hara picked up the box. The bottles inside clinked together. "I think we may need to put some padding in here, Toshi. These might see some action."

Professor Toshi Matsumura looked around Patrick's lab. There was some plastic foam wrap. He went over to grab a sheet.

"I also think we should invite Cadet Uhura to come wish Spock bon voyage with us," Patrick said. His voice dropped low. "You know, because she was his assistant and all."

_Eh? _Toshi turned to look at his friend. Was he implying...

"Oh, don't look at me like that. I'm naive, but not an idiot," Patrick said.

Both personal assessments were true, reflected Toshi...and apparently he was _implying_. Toshi had mentioned his suspicions to Patrick a long time ago -- Patrick was his best friend, obscenely trustworthy, and, well, Toshi had been incredibly drunk. But if Toshi remembered right, Patrick had declared him as nutty as a box of squirrels.

"When did you..." he began to ask.

"When Spock didn't challenge the Council directly," replied Patrick.

Toshi scratched his head. That inaction had pretty much erased any doubts he had as well.

"Spock hasn't been afraid to piss them off before. Hell, he turned down the Vulcan Science Academy...and with what your friend, T'Quilloc, described as an 'up yours.' A man like that doesn't take accusations lying down..." Patrick blushed. "So to speak."

Spock had been adamant about not wanting any sort of departmental farewell party...Toshi had doubts that he'd even let Patrick and himself up to see him. Vulcans spent their time before life-altering events in meditation. This visit was really for Toshi's and Patrick's own sense of well being. They missed Spock.

They'd been fond of Spock since he took on the Vulcan Interspecies Council and members of the Vulcan Science Academy at a conference a year ago. Spock had been attempting to defend humanity from some rather nasty Vulcan prejudice...how could they not like him for that?

And Spock had put Patrick's and Toshi's names on just about every paper he'd written in the past year, including the one documenting Captain Kalanel's transmission. Not that Patrick and Toshi hadn't helped Spock out...but it had been an honor, not a duty to do so. Spock and Cadet Uhura would have been fine on their own.

Instead, they were in his paper and their careers were pretty much secure--forever. Not to mention that their names might very well wind up in history e-books.

Patrick and Toshi considered Spock a friend. They played chess together at least once a week. Well, Patrick and Spock played chess. Toshi attempted to distract Spock by asking him personal questions. Did he ever have a pet? Had his mother called him lately? It leveled the playing field and Spock actually seemed to relish the added challenge.

But Spock had not played chess with Patrick since the accusations. Toshi suspected it was because of the highly irregular nature of the conversations they'd have while playing. Spock had taken to actually joking with Patrick and Toshi. Very dry, subtle humor...but there, nonetheless.

Whenever Toshi would call him on it and ask, "Is that a joke, Mr. Spock?", Spock would invariably reply, "Vulcans do not joke, Professor."

Toshi would say, "And half Vulcans?"

Spock would just raise an eyebrow at him and Patrick.

Toshi snapped back to the present. "Spock might be more likely to let us in if Uhura is with us."

"That's true. He's probably meditating right now," said Patrick. He sighed. "Spock and Uhura. Next thing you know, I'm going to learn that there is no Easter Bunny."

Toshi eyed his friend. Patrick was a class-one flirt. He couldn't help himself, but he had never been unfaithful to his wife...much less had an affair with a student. That sort of fraternization completely violated Patrick's idea of fair play. It was incredible that he was even thinking about giving Spock and Uhura an opportunity to see each other before Spock shipped out.

Toshi handed Patrick the piece of foam wrapping. "Should I bring the 3D chess set?" Toshi asked.

"Already packed in the bag over there with the other stuff," Patrick said, slipping the wrap between the bottles in the box. He pulled out his comm. "I'll call Cadet Uhura," he said. Then he added under his breath, "I feel like a God Damn freakin' fairy godmother."

Toshi smiled at him and nodded his head. "You're a hopeless romantic, Patrick. But it is one of the things I like about you."

x x x x x x x

"What do you mean you're _not_ going to spend the last night he has on Earth with him?" her brother Jabari fumed over the subspace comm.

Nyota was glad she had thought to use ear buds in the off-campus subspace kiosk.

Her brother, the very logical, controlled, rational, big bad captain of a quasi-pirate ship, was very sentimental and superstitious about goodbyes. He never liked being alone before shipping out. And he was expressing that point. Loudly.

"I can't go see him, Jabari. If I go alone it will look too suspicious," Nyota hissed. Did he think she was _happy_ about this situation?

"It's his last night! Do you know what is going on in the neutral zone right now?" Jabari said. "You will regret not spending this time with him for the rest of your life...especially if..."

"Don't say it!" Nyota said. She set her jaw. "You're exaggerating anyway. I read the news reports everyday. There is nothing going on."

"I'm in the neutral zone, Ny," Jabari said. He took a deep breath. "Don't trust the news..."

"What am I supposed to do?" asked Nyota. What _was_ she supposed to do? She couldn't just go to his house. She didn't even feel comfortable _calling_ his house.

Did her brother have to remind her of the hopelessness of the situation? Spock and Nyota had met earlier in the day for another stiff and uncomfortable lunch...she was heartbroken that would be her last memory of him in person. The only real good that had come of the meeting was that Nyota was able to give him his copy of the communication encryption devices she had made.

In frustration she snapped, "Are you suggesting I show up at his door with my Orion roommate? Do you have any idea how that would look?"

Jabari winced. "Yeah...that might not look good. Better to go alone than do that..."

Just then Nyota's Starfleet comm beeped.

x x x x x x x

Shifting the heavy box to his other arm, Patrick looked over at Toshi and met his eyes. Both of them looked over at Uhura. She was staring at her boots.

Well, this was uncomfortable. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to invite her. She was awfully quiet. Of course she was quiet. She had just been invited by her superior officer to see another superior officer whom she had probably been in a romantic relationship with. Maybe.

It was Spock...he was Vulcan. Vulcans were so serious. They even spent their day before heading out into the neutral zone meditating -- instead of doing something sensible like getting shit-faced drunk. Although...Patrick had rung the buzzer twice and no one was answering.

Shifting the heavy box again, Patrick pressed the buzzer at the entrance to the building one more time. Uhura looked up at him and bit her lip. Toshi shrugged.

Suddenly the intercom crackled with Spock's voice. "Who is it?"

"It's Patrick..." Patrick responded.

"And Toshi," his friend said.

"And me," said Uhura, "Cadet..."

But before she could finish, the door to the building clicked unlocked and whooshed open. Yes, it probably was a good thing they had brought her along, even if it was highly irregular.

Patrick gestured with his head and Uhura and Toshi entered the building.

"Ummm...Uhura," asked Toshi, "do you know what unit number he's in?"

"Yes," she sighed.

When they exited the turbolift, Uhura headed left down a long Spartan hallway and stopped two doors down. Patrick watched as she went to enter an access code on the door plate...then changed her mind and hit the chime.

Patrick looked down at his feet. Wrong. Just plain wrong. Were his personal ethics going down the toilet?

The door opened and there was Spock. His face was set in the same expressionless mask it had been in for weeks. He was wearing a black t-shirt and what looked like pajama bottoms and socks. He had his comm on his chest.

Maybe it was the clothing, but for a moment, he looked so...human. Just like any other young kid.

Spock's eyes met Patrick's, then Toshi's, and then Uhura's...where they stayed. Spock's gaze was too intense...and too long, and suddenly Spock wasn't quite human again.

Not quite human enough. Not quite Vulcan enough. Patrick looked down at his feet again.

x x x x x x

Toshi watched Spock's eyes land on Uhura and not look away.

A Vulcan wouldn't stare like that. Neither would a human. Toshi had a theory that Spock had Vulcan emotions and human control, the best and worst of both worlds.

Maybe it was good he was leaving and getting out of here before their reputations were risked any further?

"You must excuse me," Spock said tearing his eyes from Uhura and putting his arms behind his back. "I was meditating."

"Ummm...." Patrick said, "so, we have something for you." He handed Spock the box.

Spock took it from him and lifted the lid. His head tilted when he eyed the contents, four bottles of Terran whiskey Patrick and Toshi had specially selected for Spock...well, and for the crew of the Farragut.

"We told Pike you'd be bringing some," Patrick said hastily. "You should give him one...and one for Number One, his first mate, as well...the other two use as you see fit."

"We want to help you make friends," added Toshi.

Spock blinked. Toshi and Patrick had explained to him the human proclivity for bonding over alcohol.

"We also brought something to share now," Patrick said pointing to the bag Toshi was holding.

...Toshi and Patrick hoped this would be one of those bonding times.

"We brought cups...and chess," said Toshi holding up a brown paper bag. Patrick had warned him that Spock probably had cleared out his apartment by now.

"But we understand, if you need...if you're just...going to meditate," Patrick said.

Spock looked from Toshi, to Patrick, and then to Nyota. Toshi held his breath. Really, Spock was going to be gone in just a few hours...by the time any deviance in tonight's recordings was analyzed, Spock would be long gone. What would they do, turn the ship around?

Suddenly something happened that hadn't occurred in weeks. Spock lifted an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "It is quite alright. It appears...I am going...to be having a party," the half Vulcan said.

Toshi heard Uhura and Patrick exhale at the same time he did. He smiled...looking to the side he saw Patrick smile, too. Uhura beamed.

Standing out of the way Spock said, "Please come in."

Time to give Uhura and Spock a moment. Toshi shoved Patrick roughly in the back so he moved through the door first...Patrick being a gentleman would have let Uhura go ahead of them.

"Toshi?" Patrick said in surprise.

Toshi just kept pushing him into the living room, not even bothering to take off his shoes.

"Let's go check out the view, Patrick," he said.

"View?" Patrick replied moving over to the window that faced...another building. "Oh..." he said, looking down at his feet..."Um...yeah...it's a lovely view. Good example of retro-pre-mistake architecture...."

x x x x x x x x x

Patrick and Toshi were in the living room, from the sound of things looking out the window. Nyota couldn't see them from the foyer...which meant they couldn't see her...or Spock. He looked towards the other room and down at her.

She was alone with her Spock. And it was her Spock. The lift of his eyebrow earlier. The quirk at the edge of his lip. The way he stared at her.

The comm on his chest meant everything they said would be overheard, but it didn't record visuals. And although whatever computer was on the other end would know she was here, it wouldn't know precisely what they were doing...could his comm pick up her breathing? Her heartbeat? Could someone analyze how close they were from those faint sounds alone?

Breathing deeply, she closed her eyes for a moment...and felt warm finger tips on her temple.

_Joy. Sadness. Determination._

She echoed the feelings for Spock...trying to focus on the joy. Opening her eyes, she found him gazing down at her.

This moment was a gift. From Patrick, from Toshi...from Spock. He was rebelling a little. She could see it. Why not? In a few hours he'd be gone.

She smiled. He nodded and brushed his lips to her forehead...soundlessly.

Toshi coughed and Nyota went into the living room, running her fingertips against Spock's as she brushed by.

x x x x x x x

Toshi turned from the window and looked around the room. They were out of view of the foyer. Good.

The heat and the smell of incense had hit Toshi as soon as he walked into the room. It had been a long time since he had been in the home of a Vulcan. He'd forgotten how hot and dry they liked their quarters...he noted the incense smelled Terran, not like what he remembered from Vulcan.

He loosened his collar.

Toshi looked around. There was no furniture, only a standard Starfleet trunk on the floor with an incense burner and one single smoldering stick. There was a large nearly-fully-packed duffel nearby. On a door across the room hung the uniform of a Starfleet science officer, a bright blue shirt over a black tee, black pants. His eyes went down to the floor -- there were a pair of boots polished to within an inch of their lives.

He looked over to see Patrick looking in the same direction.

"Brings back memories," his friend said.

Patrick had been in the fleet for a few years, Toshi remembered.

From behind them they heard Uhura say, "You look like you've lost weight. You haven't been eating enough, have you?"

Spock replied, "You too have lost weight--approximately 1.5 kilograms. I have been eating. Just not sufficiently -- I have been busy. Considering you require little more nourishment than a cracker and a cup of coffee, this must mean you have not been eating at all."

He was _joking. _Rebelling.

"Mr. Exaggeration, I am not the one who's going off to explore strange new worlds. You have to keep up your strength."

"You need your strength as much as I. You do have exams, and proper nutrition is essential if one's mind is to perform at peak efficiency," replied Spock.

Toshi eyed Patrick. Patrick met his gaze and rolled his eyes. They were both married men. This sounded way too familiar.

"Toshi, this is worse than catching them kissing," whispered Patrick.

_"Hai," _agreed Toshi.

They looked at each other and turned around. "You know," said Patrick, "this could be resolved by..._eating."___

Spock and Uhura looked at them and blinked.

"Is there any good take-out around here?" asked Patrick.

"There is a very good Thai place," said Uhura. Then she pursed her lips and rocked on the balls of her feet. Of course...she would know...Excellent.

"Spicy food is a good accompaniment for champagne," said Toshi. He held aloft the brown paper bag. "And we do have some champagne."

"At last someone is being sensible," said Patrick. "Can we turn down the heat in here?"

x x x x x x x

They were trying to arrange the items in Spock's duffel so that the four bottles of whiskey would fit...as well as the tee shirt and pants he'd been wearing earlier.

"Something has to stay here, Spock," Patrick said.

_"Hai,"_ said Toshi.

"Agreed," Spock said.

Nyota reached forward on a whim and took out the black tee Spock had just been wearing. She folded it up and neatly put it under her arm. No one commented.

"Well, now the duffel just closes," said Toshi tightening the cinch.

"Are you ready, Spock?" asked Patrick.

"Yes," he answered.

It was 23:00. Patrick had offered to take Spock to the shuttle station. He had accepted.

Nyota looked at Spock, now decked out in his science blues. "The new look suits you," she said. And it did. He didn't look as stiff as he did in the fitted gray instructor's uniform. The active fleet uniform was designed for ease of movement in dangerous situations.

...don't think about that, Nyota. Think about the good things. Like Spock ordering almost every single vegetarian item on the restaurant menu...and Patrick and Toshi's eyes bugging in surprise as he ate, and ate, and ate.

Think about Patrick and Toshi laughing about the time Spock had taken his ex-roommate, Brian, out before Brian shipped off to the neutral zone -- Spock would not have done it without Patrick and Toshi's persistence. They had meant for Spock just to get Brian drunk. Instead, Spock and Brian had run into Nyota and her Orion roommate, Gaila. Gaila felt it was her patriotic duty to send all new recruits to the neutral zone with a fond farewell....as it were. So not only had Spock gotten Brian slightly inebriated...

"You got him hooked up!" Patrick had said excitedly.

"I assure you, that was not my intention," Spock replied.

"I am sure Brian thinks you are his best friend ever," Toshi commented.

"Regrettably, he mentioned something to that effect," said Spock dryly.

It had been a rather good evening...even if she did have chaperones...She wouldn't have been able to have the evening without chaperones...

She looked at Toshi and Patrick. Right now she felt like they were the best friends she and Spock could have.

"Well, let's help you haul these things out into the hall, Spock," Patrick said, eying Toshi.

"Ummm...yes, we'll do that," said Toshi. "Spock, maybe you should check your apartment to make sure that you didn't leave anything behind."

"I assure you I haven't..." Spock began.

Nyota nudged him with her elbow.

Spock wasn't used to deception...of this blatant sort anyways, but comprehension seemed to dawn on him. "Yes, I will look one last time. I am half human. It is possible...even conceivable...that from time to time I might forget something."

Both of his eyebrows went up, in surprise, Nyota imagined. It was about as close to a lie as Spock had ever gotten.

Patrick tugged at Spock's trunk. "Jeeze, Spock, what do you have in here?"

Spock opened his mouth, probably to give a precise answer right down to the number of pairs of socks.

"No, don't tell me..." Patrick said, dragging it towards the door. "Toshi, do you have the duffel?"

"Hai," said Toshi, swinging the bag over a shoulder, his body bowing a bit from its weight. He followed Patrick out the door.

Spock held his comm in his hand...it was supposed to stay on his person except when taking a shower necessitated its removal. It was tuned to his heartbeat, and whenever he put it down it would be noted. It was like jail.

Spock looked at Nyota as Patrick and Toshi left the room. His fist tightened on the comm and he took a deep breath and stepped towards her.

They could be heard, but not seen....

Putting the hand with the comm behind his back, Spock reached around her waist and pulled her forward. Nyota swallowed the lump that was in her throat as he pressed his forehead to hers.

She would not cry. She would not cry. Reaching up, she took his face in her hands. The hand Spock had on her back drifted to her temple, and after a brief shock of current, Nyota felt herself swimming in the blackness of the alien emotion she called Vulcan love. Spock's teeth grazed her chin and she managed to stiffle a moan.

Silence, Nyota, silence.

She took a deep breath that Spock echoed.

Brushing his lips to hers he brought his fingers away from her temple. They looked at each other for a moment and then Spock swallowed and steered her towards the door with his arm.

x x x x x x x

Spock stepped out of Patrick's transport. Patrick, Toshi, and Nyota followed.

The rear hatch opened. Slinging his duffel over his shoulder, Spock grabbed his trunk, hoisting it with one hand.

"Whoa, I didn't realize how strong you were," Patrick said.

Toshi shook his head.

Spock could barely bring himself to look at Nyota...although he was glad she was here.

His two friends and his...bond-mate...stood before him. Was she his bond-mate? It felt like it...or better than it...better than what he had felt with T'Pring, even though the bond with Nyota had failed...He felt a rising tide of anger at the memory. How could he have been so uncontrolled? How could he have been so weak?

He couldn't think about that right now. Clenching his teeth he nodded at Patrick. "Thank you, Lieutenant Commander."

"You're very welcome, Lieutenant Commander," replied Patrick.

_"Ki o tsukete..."_ said Toshi.

"It literally means...take care of your soul..." said Nyota. Her eyes were definitely moist.

"But we Japanese say it like 'take care.' It's dangerous out there," added Toshi.

"My brother keeps saying that too..." murmured Nyota.

Toshi's eyes shot to Nyota.

Spock remembered his conversation with Jabari: "...if the state we're in with them is peace, I'd hate to see the war..."

Patrick looked back and forth between Nyota and Toshi. Then he said, "If you see a Klingon with any sort of weapon out...don't stand on protocol, Spock...go ahead and shoot first."

Spock tilted his head at this; he could not follow this directive.

"I will be back," Spock said. In all likelihood he would. There was only a 2.5% chance of his demise, according to the most recent official reports.

"You better be," said Nyota.

His internal clock was warning him. He nodded at each of them one last time. "I must go."

Nyota crossed her arms over her chest. Patrick and Toshi nodded.

Spock turned and without looking back walked up to the gate in front of the shuttle yard. A security officer there checked his ID, took his name, and said, "Report to shuttle twenty-three."

It had just rained and the pavement beneath Spock's feet glittered with moisture. Right before the shuttle entrance there was a trash receptacle. Spock put down his trunk and took his comm off his chest. He was going to drop it in gently...then changed his mind and flung it into the bin with all the force he could muster without winding it up and using his whole body to deliver the throw. He heard a satisfying crack. Picking his trunk back, up he made his way to the shuttle.

The weight of the comm was less than ten grams, but he felt incalculably lighter.

**A/N:**  
I was going to wait until tomorrow to post, but I think this is a slightly more optimistic chapter than the last…I just couldn't bring myself to leave you with so much angst.

Reviews are how we get paid. Thanks to everyone writing reviews. Yes, there will be scenes of Nyota Spock togetherness in following chapters!


	4. Ain't Misbehavin'

**Disclaimer: I don't own Number One, Pike, Spock, or Nyota**

Thanks to Beta Reader Notes from the Classroom

**Ain't Misbehavin'**

Number One moved her chess piece.

Taking a sip of whiskey Pike said, "So, Spock, I see you're going on shore leave this time."

Spock looked up at the older man. Pike's eyes were crinkled in a smile...he was enjoying trying to distract Spock from the chess game.

It was a tactic he'd learned from Toshi and Patrick...and from them he'd learned to stick to topics of a personal nature. They'd just spent a half hour discussing Spock's latest subspace call with his mother...before that, Spock's first pet. If they had been discussing logical topics--quantum entanglement, perhaps, or wave-particle duality -- there would be no problem.

"That is correct, Sir."

Spock looked at the board, and then at Number One, the human woman who was his current opponent. Short, dark cropped hair framed icy blue eyes focused with laser like intensity on the board. She had one hand underneath her chin -- even in this relaxed pose, lean muscle was visible in her arms. She often sparred with Spock in the gym, and it showed.

At this moment her mouth was pursed in concentration. From a purely objective standpoint she was aesthetically pleasing, even with the barest minimum of make up she wore now -- high cheekbones, full lips, and flawless white skin. Spock was bonded -- for all intents and purposes--but he was not dead, and he did notice these things.

"You can call me Chris whenever you share your whiskey, Spock...So what are you going to do when you go on shore leave on Delta 989?"

He was going to lose this game if the Captain kept asking questions of this kind. When it came to chess, Number One's game was devious, or rash, or both -- it often threw Spock off...and when Pike combined distractions of a personal nature...

Spock moved his next piece...and realized his error almost immediately. He kept his eyes on the board. Would Number One notice?

She noticed. She made a very good and unexpected counter move.

"It doesn't seem the kind of place for a nice Vulcan like you, Spock," said Pike.

Spock tried to remain focused...

"Well?" asked Pike.

"I do not wish to discuss the matter."

Pike laughed low.

In a few more moves Number One called checkmate. Normally Spock enjoyed her wins. He learned more from his losses and got a great deal of satisfaction determining how he could incorporate her unorthodox strategies into games with future opponents. But today he had plans.

"One more round, Spock?" Pike asked.

Spock stood up. "I am afraid I must prepare for my leave."

"Do you want the rest of this," Pike asked, indicating the bottle of Glenfiddich Spock had brought to this engagement.

Straightening his uniform, Spock replied, "It is yours, Sir."

"Anxious to leave, Spock?" asked Number One with a raised eyebrow.

Spock tilted his head.

"Get out," said Pike with a smile.

Spock nodded and headed to the door with carefully controlled steps.

They'd just learned that they would be diverted to Delta 989 yesterday. It was an unexpected, welcome break for members of the crew lucky enough to get shore leave. In the two and a half months Spock had been in space, there had been one other chance to go planet side...Spock had worked through that leave by choice.

Delta 989, like the other stop, was a research outpost with a water, food and fuel station at the edge of the neutral zone.

It was a class K planet, which meant the outpost was encapsulated in a habitation zone. There were about 60,000 permanent inhabitants, nearly half who were on the station temporarily. There was plenty of drinking, gambling, and even less-respectable entertainments. Normally, it was not a place Spock would be interested in, but he had a purpose.

Entering his quarters he changed into some civilian clothes and grabbed a bag he'd prepared for the occasion. Then he headed to the shuttle bay.

Although transporters were faster, shuttles were more energy efficient for ferrying more than a few passengers. He slipped into a seat, strapped in and pulled out a PADD to catch up on some scientific journals...and to avoid talking to any of his fellow crew mates. He did not wish to join any of them for drinking or gambling, and he definitely didn't want to fill them in on his plans.

Upon arrival Spock stepped with quick strides out of the shuttle dock. He had committed a map of the streets and alleyways to memory. He chose to depart the main thorough-way through an alley so he could continue to avoid talking to anyone from the Farragut.

He reached his destination in twenty-two minutes and thirty-two seconds. Heading through the front door to the front desk, he passed an open bar. A sign in the lobby confirmed that this establishment supported unlimited access to subspace communication and gave the hourly rates. Spock rang the chime, picked up the access code to his reserved room, and headed for the turbolift.

Entering the room he took out a tricorder to confirm that all was acceptably sterile...or at least clean. The establishment was actually not a place one would generally think of as sleazy per se, but Spock wanted to be careful; he had heard stories from the crew. The room featured a bed and not much else. Spock noticed that there were storage drawers beneath the mattress; space was at a premium beneath the domes at these stations. A small closet and a sanitary cubicle were at the far end of the room. There were no windows.

"Computer, turn up habitat temperature to 34 C," Spock said.

Sitting down on the bed with his back to the headboard, Spock took a personal two-dimensional console out of his bag. Unfolding it he made sure that the personal encryption device was in place -- there was only one other one like it in the universe. Even though he wouldn't be purposely recorded by Starfleet here there were other prying eyes and ears in the universe.

Pressing a button Spock connected with the netherland of subspace. He confirmed with his internal clock...he had twenty-one minutes left before the pre-arranged time. So he did what any sentient being with unlimited subspace access would do. He surfed.

It had been two and a half months since he'd last seen Nyota. He had all the same problems with her absence he had had when she was in Africa. There were reasons Number One often sparred with him in the gym -- he was often there. He meditated a lot. But as humans said, he was 'dealing with it.' It wasn't easy for Spock, especially at first. Spock's acute ears caught the sounds of gossip as other crew members broke up with their romantic partners back home. It was almost expected that couples would break up.

He had at one point given Nyota the same speech he had the day of the failed mind meld; he let her know she was under no obligation...To which to his great joy she had just gotten furious at him -- so furious even he could read her emotions. Her brow had furrowed, her jaw had clenched and she had yelled at him. She told him that her parents had been separated off and on for nearly ten years -- how dare he presume she was too weak to handle their short separation? It had warmed his heart.

It was difficult being separated...but it was better than being at the Academy under observation.

The Farragut was not under any sort of security alert...so Nyota and Spock's emails and subspace calls were not individually monitored. All inbound and outbound messages were recorded and received a standard computer scan for certain classified information and for encryption. They ship's computers didn't use Nyota's encryption devices...and since neither of them was working on classified assignments, they simply didn't let themselves be concerned with being overheard.

When it came to their relationship they didn't have to be worried. Technically their relationship wasn't illicit anymore. She was a Cadet in the Academy. He was a science officer in the Fleet_; _he had no influence over her future placement. It wasn't the most ideal arrangement due to differences in rank, but they just squeaked under the bar of legitimacy.

They were still discreet beyond their personal communications. Nyota didn't talk about their relationship with her fellow cadets. Spock did not talk about it with his crew mates. The origins of their romance were obviously _not_ legitimate. And there was still the question of whether Spock would return to a position at the Academy or stay active.

Although they could talk about _almost_ anything they liked, they could not talk _as much _as they liked. Subspace was at a premium...Spock had a two-hour allotment of video channel access a month. Email was almost unlimited, but there was nothing like seeing each other.

...and there were a _few_ things they couldn't bring themselves to do or say because of the possibility of review...not that other separated couples didn't say or do these things, but Spock and Nyota found the potential for discovery too embarrassing to contemplate.

A red light flashed on Spock's data screen. He hit a key and his screen filled with static. Spock keyed in the code for the encryption device and found himself face to face with Nyota.

_"My Spock!"_ she said in Vulcan.

He bumped his forehead to the screen and allowed himself a low purr.

"Did you find out what the abnormal readings from Delta-A 930 were?" she asked him, in response to something he had written in his last email.

Spock let his purr fade. "I did find out. As I suspected, there was a seismic event."

"An earthquake."

"Yes. Nyota, there were rifts created in the mantle of the planet. I was able to send some exploratory probes down."

"Anything interesting?"

The corner of Spock's lip quirked up. "Yes. The rift opened up some veins of unusual mineral deposits...a surprising amount of latinum. But what was more interesting was the discovery of underground aquifers."

"Water!"

Water was a rare and valuable commodity in space, worth its weight in dilithium.

"Yes, an unusually high amount. And..." He paused. He was experimenting with the concept of dramatic effect.

"What? Tell me!"

"Nyota, there were thermal vents, with previously undiscovered single celled organisms."

"Fantastic!"

"What is more, they seem to have organelles whose function is similar to our mitochondria," Spock said.

"Oooooooh...so the potential to develop into multicellular organisms is there!"

"Precisely. Well worth an excursion to a planet so close to the Romulan edge of the neutral zone." They said nothing for a moment. Spock stared at her face filling the frame of his vid screen. He touched two fingers to the lower right corner of his screen and she responded in kind.

"But what of you, Nyota? I trust your journey home to Africa to see your family went well -- but how was your meeting with Commander McGravey before you left?" he asked. McGravey was in charge of the long range sensor array Nyota was now posted on.

She smiled broadly. "After carefully reviewing my performance this summer, they have decided to give me greater security access. Instead of monitoring boring Trill space, I'll be watching the neutral zone!"

Spock raised an eyebrow. "They should have given you access sooner."

"Spock --"

She was trying to cut him off. He had complained about this matter before. He would not be cut off. "I have found the typical communications officer in Starfleet to be far inferior to you in skill..." Spock said.

"You say the sweetest things."

Spock tilted his head. "I am not being sweet."

"I know, which makes it sweeter," Nyota said with an arch of her eyebrow.

Spock raised an eyebrow in reply. He was actually frequently frustrated with the skills of the communication officers aboard the Farragut. He had been obliged to help them distinguish between low Vulcan and Romulan on more than one occasion.

"But anyway," Nyota continued, "that means I'll be able to monitor your frequencies!"

She cast him a smile. "But that isn't what I want to talk about right now."

He looked away...he had a sneaking suspicion...there were things they had alluded to but had not done due to the potential for their subspace messages aboard the Farragut to be reviewed. He looked back at the screen; Nyota was panning the camera around her room in Africa.

"Here I am, all alone, away from the prying eyes of the Academy and Gaila...where are you, Spock?"

"I am not aboard the Farragut," he said slowly. "And I am someplace...with unlimited subspace access...and private."

Nyota brought the camera back to her, but she'd panned out so he could see her whole body. She was sitting on her bed, wearing a light silk robe.

"Mmmmm...it's hot in Africa in the summer," she said.

Dropping the robe, Nyota revealed herself in only a sheer white bra and panties.

They had written each other obliquely suggestive things in emails, and more directly suggestive things in snail mail...but there had been nothing via video chat...

Nyota's display had what Spock had deduced would be the desired effect. He felt a tightening in his trousers, a flush in his cheeks, and a growl in the back of his throat.

x x x x x x x x x

Afterwards they lay on their sides, both staring at each other through their respective screens. On the one hand Spock felt relaxed...on the other hand, it was a pale imitation of being truly together. Did it make separation better? Or did it just highlight how far apart they really were?

Spock looked down at his wrist, then lazily held it up so Nyota could see the hole he'd bitten through his tee shirt in the final moments of release. Nyota smiled, "Mmmmmmm....I'll send back the tee I stole from you the night you left...if you send me that one...but don't wash it."

Spock raised an eyebrow and licked his lips. "Perhaps...you would send me..."

"These?" Nyota said holding up the pair of panties she'd been wearing earlier.

"Yes."

"We're no longer subspace sex virgins," Nyota said.

He raised an eyebrow.

Nyota held two fingers to the screen. "I've never done that before."

He touched the screen too. "Nor I."

She giggled, "I'm so glad you are my first."

"As am I."

She got serious, "...and my only."

And suddenly the fact that she would do this only with him and no one else...it made the act better somehow...even _good._

They chatted more about this and that. Nyota talked about her family, her brother, the few childhood friends she had a chance to reacquaint herself with.

Spock talked about his ongoing work with Professor Toshi Matsumura on the Kobayashi Maru via subspace...and even asked about the well being of Patrick. Spock was generally very poor about niceties like inquiring about another person's well being. But before his last day on Earth, Spock had considered Patrick and Toshi _almost _friends...now...

He knew Nyota had deep feelings of affection for Patrick and Toshi as well, but she snorted at the mention of their names. "They are both doing their damnedest to get me to hand over my sphere..."

The sphere she spoke of featured a Romulan sitcom of dubious quality that played very much like a holovid. It had a production date of twenty years in the future, and its readouts said it was actually over one hundred years old.

It was quite a curiosity that deserved further study, but it had been given to Nyota by her brother, Jabari, who'd found it in a molten trash heap on an asteroid somewhere. Because it was from her brother, Nyota was deeply emotionally attached to it -- and disinclined to hand it over for dissection.

"Toshi's actually the worst, Spock...he keeps pestering me for it...politely, of course." Nyota sighed and shook her head.

They talked on and on...they did not say they missed one another or loved one another aloud, because Spock could not respond...he couldn't convey his feelings through the link anymore and just became frustrated.

Spock was to the point that he could put the sentiments in writing. He theorized that the act of translating the sentiment to the abstract language of the written word made it possible. But it was an abstraction and so far from the feeling...

Spoken words were also an abstraction, he supposed, but perhaps closer to the emotion they conveyed?

Neither compared to empathic contact; neither compared to a genuine bond...

He stopped himself. Going down this train of thought was unhealthy. He focused on the moment.

"You know, Spock, I think you genuinely like your new job," Nyota said.

Spock lifted an eyebrow. "Liking one's job is an emotional reaction to a transient state of being..."

Nyota cocked an eyebrow at him. "So it's not allowed?"

"It is unwise to become attached to such a thing...however, Surak does encourage us to be curious..."

"And..." Nyota goaded him.

"My job gives me a lot to be curious about...and much to find fascinating," Spock admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up involuntarily.

"Keep being curious and finding new organisms, Spock. You've got to be the best science officer in Starfleet so you can join me on the Enterprise someday," Nyota said.

Spock looked at his hands. "It had crossed my mind, Nyota."

And it had. Not just to be with her...he did find much to be curious about as a science officer. There were days of great tedium aboard ship; so far the danger Toshi and Jabari had spoken of had not materialized...but the discoveries on the the good days were...extremely fascinating. And he had analyzed his performance and deduced he filled his post satisfactorily.

After two hours, fifty-six minutes and thirty-one seconds Nyota said, "I'm going to fall asleep, Spock."

He nodded. "I will watch."

And he did. He gazed as her eyelids fluttered closed and her body trembled. He watched her breathe for exactly twenty seven minutes and fourteen seconds and then closed the comm.

...That is when the pounding began next door. It was obvious that some hominids were "having a good time."

Spock rolled onto his back for a moment and listened to what sounded like the bed unit in the other room hitting the wall over and over. Someone had rhythm. Pulling himself up he went to the shower cubicle to clean himself off. Mercifully there was real running water, and the sound of it drowned out the activities of his neighbors.

As he emerged from the shower Spock noted the noise next door had died down. Drying himself with a towel he headed over to the bed. The shuttle back to the ship wasn't due to depart for a few more hours and the room was just getting comfortably warm. Since he had the room anyway...Wrapping the towel around his waist he sat down on the bed, pulled his legs up to his body and began to meditate.

Through the warm daze of semi-consciousness he gradually became aware of the slow steady pounding of what sounded like a drum.

He attempted to tune it out. For a while it worked...but then the drum beat began to increase in pace and volume...

...and it slowly filtered through his consciousness that it wasn't a drum.

Spock emerged from his meditation just in time to hear what sounded like the bed unit in the room next door hit the wall with one final loud crack...

There was only forty-five minutes left until the shuttle departed anyway. Rolling his neck, he unwound himself from his meditation position and went to get dressed.

Sixteen minutes later he exited his door and headed to the turbolift. He waited a total of six minutes and it did not arrive.

He heard a door down the hallway whoosh open and closed.

Not turning to look, he pressed the turbolift call button a few times in rapid succession.

"Anxious to leave, Spock?" asked a female voice from down the hall.

Spock glanced sideways. Down the hall next to the door of the unit that adjoined his stood a tall, sleek human female. She was dressed in a clingy black cocktail dress and extraordinarily high heels. Her hair was an icy blue bob...and the eye makeup she wore matched.

"Don't go that way," she said. "The bar below is a hangout for the crew. If you value your privacy, follow me."

Spock's ears were extremely acute; he should have recognized the voice immediately...but under the circumstances it took a moment.

It was Number One.

Not waiting to hear him reply, she turned and sashayed down the hall. Seams in the back of her nylons accentuated the muscles in the back of her calves.

Opening a door at the end of the hallway, Number One looked at him one more time. He followed.

Without a word they made their way to the bottom of a stairway. A door there stood open to a clean but deserted alleyway.

Nodding her head to the left, Number One said, "You're going that way." She nodded her head to the right. "I'm going that way."

She smiled tightly. "See you back at the ship."

Spock opened his mouth to speak but before he got a word out she was already heading down the steps and out the door.

Fascinating.

**A/N:**

So I'm likin' Number One. I hope you are too! Might be more than two days until next post. Workin' on a story arc. Reviews are like credits for Fan Fiction writers...and keep us going.

The hole Spock bit through his tee shirt are explained in "Once Bitten" or Descartes - chapters "Love Bites" & "Lost in Translation". Its a Vulcan thing.

Thanks everyone...


	5. Bliss Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Nyota, Number One, Starfleet or any part of the Klingon Empire**

Thanks to beta reader Notes from the Classroom! All grammar mistakes are my fault/sometimes last minute additions are too hard to resist

**Bliss**

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Were you waiting for them to fire first, Spock?" Number One screamed from behind the burnt remainder of a seat designed for Klingons.

Slipping around what had once been another passenger seat of the gutted Klingon escape pod, Spock fired a rapid succession of shots. "Yes," he responded.

Through the phaser fire he heard the sound of Klingons choking.

From across what had once been an aisle, Number One fired off a few blasts from her own phaser. There were inhuman groans from the wide hole that was the aft end of the abandoned Klingon vessel. It was larger than a human pod, designed for multiple and larger passengers. There was more room to maneuver but more to defend...

Ensign Singh was curled on the floor, mostly covered from from enemy fire by a twisted piece of hull that looked like it had melted in on itself. He was alternately shouting into his comm, "Farragut, come in! Farragut, come in!" and releasing blasts from his phaser without really aiming.

"Ensign, stop wasting your phaser fire and concentrate on hailing the Farragut!" shouted Number One.

"Yes, sir! Trying another frequency. Away team to Farragut! Farragut, do you read?"

From what had once been the starboard porthole and was now a blasted-out hole half a meter wide, Spock heard the sound of scraping.

"Cover me," he said to Number One. He slipped to the edge of the porthole just as the business end of a phaser rifle entered what was left of the shuttle craft. Without hesitating, Spock grabbed the rifle and jerked it forward with both hands. The muzzle of the recently-fired weapon seared Spock's skin but he didn't let go...The Klingon came with the rifle -- at least partially. Hanging half in, half out, he widened his eyes when he saw Spock. "Vulcan!" he spit.

He should have focused on the battle -- but then he wasn't a soldier of the Klingon Empire, and not well trained.

The instant he spit out the words Spock's hand came down in a Vulcan Nerve pinch and the Klingon sputtered into unconsciousness.

Spock noted that the hominid's body would effectively block the porthole...and the rifle...He ripped it from the hominid's hands, eyed it appreciatively, and then aimed it out the small hole left between the porthole and the body.

There were three Klingons approaching. Spock fired.

x x x x x x x

Nyota got a few steps from the coffee vendor when her hands holding the over-sized paper cup began to burn. She cursed in Klingon...dropped the superheated cup of coffee into a trash bin, and looked disapprovingly over her shoulder at the vendor in his stand. He didn't notice. And she didn't have time to get another cup. There went breakfast.

She headed across the dew-wet grass of the Academy towards the building housing the monitors for the sensor array. Normally she wouldn't walk through the grass, but she was feeling unusually efficient this morning. It was a beautiful San Francisco day. The sun was up; the air was clear. Her mind felt focused. She was ready to get to work.

Arriving at the building she passed through the entrance, went down several hallways, and came to a set of double doors. There was a human guard and then a finger and a retina scanner to pass through. She waved at the guard, waited for the retina and finger scans to allow her access, and then entered.

Accepting a post monitoring the neutral zone was...well, Nyota was familiar with the expression, ignorance is bliss. She had developed a deeper understanding of that expression in the last month. It's not that anything had happened in any of her shifts. Space was mostly darkness and silence after all, but from her colleagues she'd heard stories...ships, mostly unregistered freighters, had disappeared in the last year.

Then there were the skirmishes between Klingons and humans, both blaming each other for the mysterious vanishings.

As yet the skirmishes were not between the Empire and the Federation; they were between shipping factions, but some of her colleagues postulated that it was only a matter of time before someone went overboard and there would be a border war.

It was extremely good for her career to have this position. She told herself that it would toughen her up, and that was necessary for the position she would be filling someday. Still...

Spock was out there.

Nyota sat down at her station, arranged her earbuds, checked all of her readouts, and began to review the computer's readouts, looking for any sign of an anomaly.

The signal array was made up of millions of radio receivers planted at strategic locations throughout the galaxy. For tactical reasons these units were small and usually disguised as asteroids or debris. They picked up non-subspace signals from a system and relayed the information via X-band radio waves to larger subspace reception and transmission units. These subspace units were more difficult to hide due to their size and power signatures.

One of her colleagues had said that the whole system was held together by spit and duct tape, and sometimes it seemed to Nyota that it was. Radio receivers were always going off line...even the subspace stations sometimes did. There were Federation teams in the neutral zone whose only job was to go from planet to planet and repair the array. It was a never-ending job.

Nyota quickly surveyed her computer readout and ran through a few of the communications they indicated. There was nothing of interest that she could see this morning. Good.

"Hey," a voice came from behind her. "You've been here fifteen minutes and you haven't even bothered to say hello."

Nyota spun in her chair to face the human male cadet behind her, "Oh, sorry, Chang-He!" Nyota shook her head. "Just in the zone today."

"It's alright," Chang-He replied. "Hey, it's actually been an interesting day."

"In a good way...or a bad way?" Nyota asked.

Chang-He shrugged. "About an hour and a half hours ago there was a skirmish of some kind between a Klingon freighter and some unknown. And then a Klingon escape pod issued a distress hail. Heard it from the guy who had the shift before me...I'm monitoring that system now."

Nyota tilted her head. That was interesting...she went back to work.

It was about twenty minutes later when Chang-He said, "I think I just locked onto one of our boys out there...yep...it's the Farragut."

Spinning in her chair, Nyota said, "Really? What is the time delay?"

Because the X-band signals could travel only at the speed of light, there was a lag in the time from when a signal was originally received and when it was picked up by the local subspace station. Only from subspace stations could interstellar messages be sent and received instantaneously.

Chang-He looked at one of his monitors. "About thirty minutes... didn't you say you know someone on the Farragut?"

"Yes!" Nyota said excitedly.

"Let's see what they're up to then, shall we? Or rather...were up to..."

Chang-He flipped the sound to the speakers and the two sat back and listened.

_"Starfleet, this is the Farragut. We are above Delta 1081, class N planet. A distress call from a Klingon shuttle was received from this area approximately one hour and twenty-two minutes ago. The shuttle was associated with a freighter...no sign of the freighter but we believe we have found the remains of the shuttlecraft on the planet. Preparing away team."_

_"Message received, Farragut."_

For a few minutes there was silence, and then there was this:

_"This is Captain Pike to away team...Number One, what have you got for me?"_

_"Sir, there appear to be no survivors...or even bodies..." _Number One's voice sounded contemplative, even through the static. She continued. "_From a cursory investigation it looks like someone was scavenging parts from the shuttle and then tried to destroy the evidence...but didn't finish the job."_

_"Mister Spock, do you agree with that assessment?"_ the voice that was Captain Pike asked.

Nyota sat bolt upright in her chair.

_"I would agree that is a sound hypothesis, Captain,"_ a familiar voice said. Nyota's heart leapt.

_"Captain, it looks like someone else may have been here. There are two distinct sets of footprints,"_ said Number One.

_"Someone scared them away then..."_ Captain Pike seemed to be musing to himself.

Then Nyota and Chang-He heard a voice coming from the background. _"Captain, another Klingon freighter is approaching."_

_"On screen," _Captain Pike responded.

Nyota and Chang-He looked at each other.

_"Captain,"_ Number One's voice said, _"we have company down here..."_

There was the sound of phaser fire and then Number One's voice echoed through the room where Chang-He and Nyota sat._ "Take cover in the shuttle!"_

_"Captain,"_ said a slightly distant voice, _"Klingon freighter is arming photon torpedoes..."_

_"Take evasive maneuvers..."_

"What's going on? Why aren't they defending themselves...it's just a freighter," Nyota found herself asking distantly.

Chang-He began fingering the dials. "They aren't chatting right now...I don't know...sometimes weapons generate interference...but..."

Nyota and Chang-He sat in silence for what seemed an eternity.

Nyota tasted something metallic in her mouth. She was...strangely calm. She should be terrified. Why wasn't she terrified? Maybe because it had already happened and there was nothing she could do about it? Maybe because the voices were distant and disembodied?

No...that wasn't it...

Why did she feel...why _didn't_ she feel? Why did she have this strange taste in her mouth?

Without really thinking, she turned back to her station and began calmly and efficiently reviewing computer readouts. Her hands still felt slightly hot from where she'd burned them on the coffee. She lifted them; they didn't look burned. She went back to work.

"How can you ignore this?" Chang-He asked incredulously.

Nyota didn't turn away from her station. She tilted her head. "This work still needs to be done," she said. Her voice sounded strange...distant, cold.

Suddenly another voice crackled through the speakers, speaking in Klingon. _"This is Captain Golarth of the Warbird V'angnosh. You will stand down!"_

"Oh, fuck," said Chang-He. "Now they've got a warbird on their tail..."

**A/N: **

Short, but how could I not end it right there...will try not to keep you waiting too long! Remember, reviews are how we fanfiction writers and our beta's get paid. Please review if you enjoyed this, we (my beta Notes from the Classroom & me) really enjoy hearing from you.


	6. Bliss Part 2

**Disclaimer: **

Thanks To Notes from The Classroom, my beta. All mistakes are my own.

**Bliss Part 2**

Cross fire whizzed past Spock's ears. Dropping the comm, Ensign Singh focused all his attention on firing at the Klingons trying to come through the blown-out aft end of the ship.

The Klingon blocking the blown out porthole was now dead, killed by friendly fire. Spock used the barrel and muzzle of the dead Klingon's rifle for leverage as he shifted the Klingon's body for better aim. He shot the remainder of the Klingons approaching the porthole.

Number One shouted over the scream of Klingon phasers and war cries. "Spock, cover the aft end of the shuttle now!"

Pushing the body so it covered more of the porthole and positioning himself so it partially protected him from the phaser fire from the aft end of the pod, Spock did as he was ordered.

The Klingons were not well trained, but they were coming in fast, and there was more of them.

"My phaser's dead!" yelled Singh.

Spock tossed Singh his phaser. Singh caught it in midair and immediately started firing. Spock resumed firing with the Klingon's rifle.

And then...everything stopped. For an eerie moment there was almost silence. Just the muffled sound of footfalls from outside...and then the war whoops began again. A drumming noise began from the front, roof and the side of the pod opposite Spock...thankfully the porthole on that side had been filled by molten metal long before the away team had arrived.

"Oh, fuck me," whispered Singh looking up.

Spock suddenly realized the pod was literally covered and surrounded by Klingons.

The body next to Spock suddenly shifted and a Klingon forehead emerged. Without time or room to turn his weapon around, Spock began hitting the forehead with the butt end of the rifle. There was the wet sound of rifle butt hitting flesh and then the sound of cracking. The first head disappeared. He heard laughing and another Klingon head emerged. Spock applied the same treatment.

Singh and Number One begin firing their phasers again as, once more, invaders tried to enter from the blown-out aft end of the pod. Hearing the sound of clanging, Spock turned to see the molten metal over the opposite porthole began to shudder and shake.

x x x x x x x x

_"Klingon freighter, you will stand down now!"_ shouted the voice of what sounded like Captain Golarth of the Klingon Warbird.

"What?" said Chang-He. Nyota and he shot each other confused glances.

Nyota heard the sound of shouts from Farragut. _"Captain Pike, should we arm photon torpedo--"_

_"You will not fire! All power to forward shields,"_ shouted Pike.

Nyota and Chang-He edged closer to the speakers. Nyota felt alert...but she felt no panic. It was an odd sensation.

An unfamiliar voice spat through the air in Klingon._ "Stooge of the Klingon Empire, why shouldn't I slaughter these human scum? They have killed or kidnapped my brother, stolen his freighter...then killed his wife and children in an unarmed escape pod!"_

_"You deserve vengeance, Nadock. But these humans are not responsible for this treachery," _Golarth responded. For the first time Nyota noticed a certain amount of gravel in the sound of Golarth's voice. She wondered if he was older...

A growl came from a Klingon -- from the Warbird or the freighter, Nyota couldn't tell.

_"The Klingon Empire becomes as weak and as deceitful as the Federation!"_ Nadock cried.

_"Nadock, vengeance will never be yours if you continue this attack!" _Golarth spat._ "Continue this assault and you and your clan will be considered an enemy of the Klingon Empire." _

Silence hung in the air. Then Nyota heard what sounded like spitting.

T_he Klingon Freight Guild will not stand for this. You dishonor us, Golarth. The Empire dishonors us. Are you afraid of a war?_"

Golarth's voice suddenly boomed through the room. _"Afraid of war? I crave war! I crave the clarity of mind and purpose it brings. I crave the sounds of my enemy's tortured last breaths as they cling in vain to life. I am an old man, Nadock, and I look forward to the chance to die in battle!  
_  
_"But I will not be the pawn of saboteurs...When the war comes, Nadock, I and the Klingon empire will be at the forefront...and live or die fighting our true enemy!"_

"You are senile, old man. These humans are the enemy!"   
x x x x x x x x x x

They were being overrun.

Number One and Singh were covering the aft end of the shuttle and the now open port side with their phasers.

Spock's stolen weapon no longer fired. He was defending the starboard side porthole with the butt end of his rifle...and then his fists. There was no longer a Klingon body blocking the opening, but the Klingons did not fire in...they left that to their comrades approaching the aft end of the ship and the port side. Instead, they seemed to be taking sport in the prospect of trying to fight a Vulcan. Laughter and snarling came from the opening he guarded, even as his fists rained down on another opponent.

Spock didn't feel fear. He didn't feel pain. He didn't need to think, only to act. There was no logic or emotion. His universe had shrunk to the impulse to survive.

And then slowly through this clarity, the sound of screams of rage began to filter...and the sound of transporter energy. Spock didn't stop his onslaught...Klingons were still coming through the opening next to him...

...and then they weren't.

He heard the sound of Singh and Number One panting near him and noticed he no longer heard phasers. And then he realized that he was also panting and his heartbeat was thumping in his ears. His mouth tasted vaguely metallic -- it was the taste of his own adrenalin.

"They're gone," said Number One.

Singh didn't miss a beat; he picked up the comm he'd dropped earlier. "Farragut, this is away team. Come in, come in."

Spock began to will himself to be calm. Despite the pain in his burned hands, it was surprisingly easy. He found he wasn't much more agitated than when he'd fought a trio of drunks in the alley so long ago...although that had been only a trifling incident.

Fascinating.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Nyota heard the sound of spitting and growling. Then... _"Nadock out."_

There was a long silence, and then Captain Pike's voice came on. _"Golarth, old man, want to come over for a drink?"_

Nyota inhaled deeply. She still wasn't afraid for Spock. Strange. Was she in shock?

There was a long, low guttural growl of assent. Then Golarth said, _"I will be there in twenty-five Standard minutes."_

_"Away team, status report?"_ Pike's voice asked.

_"This is Number One, Captain. Ramirez and Blake are down..."  
_  
Captain Pike cut her off. _"I want you and Spock in the conference room for a debriefing, now."_

Although she hadn't been afraid for Spock, Nyota literally bounced in her seat and clapped her hands when she heard his name mentioned. Chang-He looked at her. "I used to work for him," she reminded him. "He was a great boss...I'm glad he's not dead."

He nodded, "It's okay, I understand...you two discovered the Romulan transmission – man, you are so set..."

Captain Pike's voice over the audio interrupted her coworker. _"Get me a secure channel to Starfleet --"_

And all was static as the Farragut switched to encrypted mode.

x x x x x x x x  
Light and electricity wrapped around him and Spock found himself on the Farragut's transporter pad, the Klingon's rifle still in his hands. A member of security came forward to take it after Spock materialized. Handing it over, Spock flexed his hands and looked down. He estimated that he had received first and second degree burns. He concentrated on keeping the pain at bay.

"Will those burns be all right, or do you need to see a doctor right away?" Number One asked.

"I am sufficiently well to fulfill Captain Pike's request for a debriefing," replied Spock.

The burns would have to be treated eventually. He had other injuries, but they were minor. Some contusions on his face, hands, arms and ribs, a cut lip, nothing that required immediate medical attention.

A blonde nurse had noticed Spock looking at his hands and overheard Number One's comments.

"He should have burns treated now," the nurse said.

"He said he's fine, Chapel." Number One wiped some blood off her forehead and then turned to look at Spock. "Let's go...before my evil doppelganger takes you to sick bay."

Spock looked back at Chapel. He had no opinion on the evil comment, but she did bear more than a passing resemblance to Number One.

Walking to the debriefing, Spock and Number One passed through a corridor lined with six members of the Klingon fleet on one side and six members of Farragut security on the other. The Klingons growled as they passed.

As the conference room door whooshed shut behind them, Spock's eyes fell on a large white-haired Klingon seated at the conference table. As soon as the Klingon saw Spock, he spat.

Golarth looked between Spock and Pike. "Is this dog on your leash, Pike, or are you on his?" As he said this, spittle sprayed over the conference table.

Spock restrained a tilt of his head. The last time he'd been called a dog of any sort had been by Nyota's brother, Jabari.

"This is Lieutenant Commander Spock, Golarth." Pike said. " He is a member of Starfleet, my chief science officer, and a member of the away team. Number One, Spock...we have Starfleet's approval to share all information from our recent expedition with Golarth here -- since he has so kindly interceded and prevented what might have turned into a nasty little interstellar conflict."

"My aim is not to prevent conflict. My aim is to find the true source of this conflict!" Golarth said, standing up and crashing a fist against the table.

Pike sat down next to Golarth. "Easy, my old adversary...you know I'd like nothing more than to help you achieve the honorable death you seek."

Golarth hissed...then sat down. "Have your team give me the report...the idiot freighter captain has probably destroyed the scene."

Spock and Number One relayed all the information they had found. Number One brought up pictures they had taken showing the ground around the pod. There were two distinct sets of prints, both hominid. The second set of prints were more regular -- all were wearing the same type of boots.

There had been no survivors or bodies and it appeared that someone had tried to destroy the small craft and all evidence by incineration...the whole scene had been scorched -- the inside and outside of the pod, and the surrounding ground nearly four meters in every direction.

"On examination of the wreckage," Number One said, "it looks like the escape pod was hit by laser fire above the atmosphere but still managed to land. Whoever attacked it and the freighter came down and removed the survivors...or the bodies that were in the pod, and then tried to destroy all the evidence. We suspect they were interrupted...they could have completely incinerated the pod if they'd had just a little more time."

"Unfortunately," Spock said, arms behind his back, "although they failed to completely destroy the pod, there will be little, if any, DNA evidence to recover...and the black box recording the shuttles last minutes was removed."  
x x x x x x x x

Dismissing Number One and Spock, Captain Pike turned to Golarth.

"Nothing new," Pike said. "Have anything you care to add?"

The old Klingon warrior grunted. He had gotten stockier in the past few years, Pike noted. When he moved there was visible stiffness in his joints and the ridges on his forehead had become more furrowed. There was more spittle when he spoke.

Klingons weren't supposed to play politics, but Klingons didn't get as old as Golarth if they didn't. Golarth was willing to play with Pike because he perceived they had a common enemy. And they were friends...or close adversaries. To Klingons one was much the same as the other.

"It was the same as the others," Golarth spat. "The freighter received no warning before the attack started...only this time an escape pod managed to be launched and get out a distress hail."

"More than one ship must have been responsible for the attack..." Pike said. "At least one must have incapacitated the freighter and hauled it away -- there is no debris. Another ship went after the pod..."

Golarth grunted in agreement. "My guess is someone needs parts, or ships...and does not want to be seen." The Klingon grimaced in impatience. "The pod was occupied by the sister-in-law of Nadock -- and her four children. With his brother dead, it is Nadock's duty to avenge their deaths."

Pike took a deep breath. "And he blames the Federation."

"As Federation freighter captains blame the Klingons for their disappearances," Golarth said with a sneer. "A happy side effect for these scavengers...we fall into fighting one another and leave our underbellies open to attack."

He hissed...which Pike understood as a Klingon equivalent of a sigh. "Pike, my old adversary, would you do me the honor of giving me some of the warrior's drink?"

Pike got up from his seat, not afraid to turn his back on Golarth...even though they had been on opposite sides of photon torpedoes from time to time. "Of course, Old Man."

He went over to a mobile cooling unit. Pike pulled out a large pitcher of prune juice, a large beer stein, and a shot glass. Filling both drinking implements, he headed back to the table. He wasn't sure what sentient being had discovered that Klingons were enamored with prune juice and had convinced them that it was a "warrior's drink" -- but that being must have had balls of steel.

As he sat back down, he handed Golarth the stein and took the shot glass for himself.

Golarth barked a laugh, eying Pike's tiny shot. "Too strong for you?" he sneered.

Pike sighed. "You have no idea." He clinked his glass with the Klingon's and downed his shot.

"You don't blame the Federation," Pike commented.

Golarth leaned back in his chair. "The second set of footprints were made by Vulcan Intelligence...they don't know who is responsible for these attacks either."

"The VI is here? But Vulcan is protected by the Federation...no Vulcan ships have even been attacked. They have no need..."

Of course, Vulcan like every Federation planet had its own intelligence agency and self defense force. But it was odd that they would be so far abroad.

"Evidently they don't feel protected," Golarth said, spitting out the word 'feel.' "If the Federation was to blame, the VI wouldn't have to be out here sniffing around -- their spies on the main worlds would already know who was responsible."

Pike said nothing. He knew of Klingons' special aversion to Vulcans and their logic -- and how they believed the whole of the Federation was manipulated by Vulcan.

Golarth stiffened a bit. "They've even brought out the Gray Guard."

Pike felt the hairs on the back of his neck go up at mention of the Guard.

Golarth's sneered. Pike could tell he was running out of patience. He didn't even bother to ask how he knew about the VI or the Gray Guard. Instead, he asked the big question. "Who do you think it is?"

Golarth eyed him a long moment, took a deep breath, and then said, "They are motivated by something besides money; perhaps honor. They are not Klingons. Klingons are too honest...they would brag of their conquests. Our intelligence says they are not Andorian or from the Cardassian Union. If it was the Romulan Empire, the Gray Guard would at least have some inkling...."

Golarth shook his large head. "I suspect it is...an independent group, outside of any Empire. They are obviously very cohesive. I doubt it is a mixed-race organization. They are technologically sophisticated. It is possibly renegade humans...but...I would guess that the group is larger than one hundred fifty members, and after that number, human organizations tend to break down.

"I would be more inclined to say renegade Cardassians or Romulans...or Mad Dogs."

"Mad Dogs?" asked Pike.

Golarth snorted. "Why don't you ask Vulcan Intelligence about that. Just see if they share as much with you as I do." He drained the stein of prune juice and growled.

A/N:  
Couldn't leave you hanging on that cliff too long. Spock's got Bliss! Reviews are like credits...more Uhura / Spock goodness next chapter.

How many of you got the Number One/Chapel Doppelganger thing?


	7. After Bliss

**DISCLAIMER:**

Thanks to Notes in the Class Room for the Beta job! Sonnet #130 is referenced in this chapter...for those not up on Shakespeare I put it at the bottom of this chapter.

**After Bliss**

Hitting the send button, Pike watched his screen as the message to T'Quilloc was carried into subspace. He waited. There was a confirmation message.

Pike knew T'Quilloc and other factions within the Vulcan Intelligence community wanted to work more closely with Starfleet. He also knew that they would be highly unlikely to break any rules laid down by the Vulcan High Command. And the High Command was extremely resistant to change. Pike sometimes wondered what the Vulcans were trying to hide. They were essentially pacifists. They'd waged no wars that weren't in self defense in over a millennia.

Leaning forward, he rubbed his eyes. He was done with his official duties for the day. He could relax. He could worry. "Computer, locate Number One," he said.

"Number One is currently residing in her quarters," an ethereal voice said.

Pike looked at the picture of his wife and daughters on his desk. "Don't worry," he said softly. "It is only Number One."

Standing up he strode out of his ready room and headed to the habitation deck.

x x x x x x x

Even though Spock had survived the incident and was well enough to go to a debriefing after being beamed back aboard the Farragut, Nyota still ached to hear from him.

Over her break she left the lab and emailed him from her PADD...obviously, communication of a personal nature was more than discouraged from a secure facility. Nyota couldn't even tell Spock she'd listened to the conflict between the Farragut and the Klingon freighter. Even the fact that the particular system he had been in was monitored was classified information. The Federation didn't want their enemies knowing which parts of the neutral zone were under surveillance...and really didn't want their enemies to know which systems weren't. So the email she sent to Spock before her shift had ended had to be in code.

_My Spock,_

_Really, really boring day monitoring the subspace sensor array. Would love to hear how your day went._

_Yours,_

_Nyota _

Which meant, of course, 'You could have died...and I heard it. Call me, email me, anything! Now.'

Nyota did manage to make it through her day without running out of the lab every five minutes to check her email and subspace messages for word from Spock. She managed by allowing herself to be angry. She was angry at her position of helplessness, at being only a passive listener to the action unfolding in space, at being unable to help Spock...or anyone.

Just as anger had driven her to succeed at her exams, it propelled her through her day and helped her focus on her tasks as she monitored the frequencies of the people she imagined were really making a difference in the galaxy.

As she had done many times before, she vowed that someday she'd be among them.

As soon as she entered her dorm room she tried to connect to the Farragut through subspace vid and got the expected message: "Personal subspace bandwidth to the Farragut is currently inaccesible. Please try again later..."

"Aarrgghhhhh!" She groaned and dropped her head to her desk.

Gaila was not home to cheer her up; she was busy bug testing some new updates to the Kobayashi Maru simulation. It was possible she wouldn't get home until morning.

Nyota tried to study. Intermittently she tried connecting to Spock via subspace. As the evening wore on Nyota found herself studying less and less...and trying to connect to the Farragut more and more.

She found herself rereading an email exchange she'd had with Spock a few days before. She read the note she'd written him:

_My Spock,_

_It isn't fair. I've told you all the little moments that made me fall in love with you. When you lent me your sweater. When you let me sleep in the lab -- after, you know.... Every time you ever reminded someone that I heard Kalanel first. Every time you've defended my intelligence from sexist Neanderthals when decorum prevented me from doing it myself -- although maybe that's not being fair to the Neanderthals--we really don't know that they were sexist. Your ex-roommate, however..._

_Every time you tried to trip me up in another language. Every time you made me laugh._

_But you don't tell me what made you decide you loved me. Only when exactly I began to rattle around in your head...four hundred fifty-five days, twenty-three hours, nineteen minutes, and fifty seven seconds ago. Not that it isn't sweet and romantic that you remember it...but it's still not fair. I don't have a built in Vulcan clock. Okay, so it was something that happened after that first night when *you* tried to seduce me, I know that. But what was it? _

_I know you didn't suddenly discover my eyes were like the sun, my lips were like coral, my cheeks were like roses...and it definitely wasn't my snow white skin..._

_Come on. Fess up._

_Your Nyota_

And then read with a smile his reply. It was a very emotional email for Spock.

_My Nyota,_

_Clever. You allude to Shakespeare's Sonnet #130. You are right; your eyes are nothing like the sun:_

_And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare_

_As any she belied with false compare._

_I do not find you hair to be like wires or your breath to reek, though. Perhaps this is a sad reference to the poor hygiene that existed in the Bard's time._

_And as for snow white skin, you know my predilection for chocolate._

_If you were here, you would tell me that I am stalling, and perhaps you would be right._

_In the interest of full disclosure, I will tell you the exact moment you started to rattle around in my head. It was after that first ill-advised night, when, as you say, I attempted to seduce you. I did not intend for my means to be nefarious, and indeed I hope they were not. When I touched your temple I was only trying to convey my desire for you--my 'honest lust,' in your words._

_Of course you slipped back into my mind and decided that what you found there, or rather, what you did not find there, was not enough for you. As you said, at that point you were but an abstraction to me -- and simple lust, no matter how honest, was not sufficient._

_Nyota, surely you've discovered that most people, most things, are abstractions to me. Humans seem to bond so easily to the people around them; mere proximity seems to be enough. Perhaps, as you say, it is a function of human empathy? I accept that as logical and essential in some way for the cohesion of human society. To accept that is logical, however, does not mean that it is something I am capable of._

_I realize that to humans I may appear cold and distant -- and I suppose that in most circumstances, I am. However, among Vulcans I stand out as being emotional. My lack of emotional control has caused me a great deal of mental turmoil. I used to believe erroneously that my emotions were the result of my human heritage. It is, ironically, through my deeper relationship with you that I have discovered that my emotions are more Vulcan than human. _

_Vulcan culture compels me to suppress emotions I do have, and human culture compels me to express emotions I do not. But you, Nyota..._

_After that first night, after I had hurt you with my lack of affection, however unintentionally, you still said to me, "You should never have to feel ashamed or guilty for what you feel, or what you don't feel."_

_And it was that moment, as you say, that you began to rattle around in my head._

_It has taken me an inordinate amount of time to write this missive. I find that I am unfortunately not able to go on--I must report to my shift. I hope, though, that what I have written is a satisfactory response._

_As always,_

_I am yours ever -_

_Spock_

_P.S._

_As of this minute it has been four hundred fifty-six days, fifteen hours, nineteen minutes, and forty one seconds_.

It was only after she'd slipped on the tee shirt he'd sent to her after their 'Delta 989 liason' and crawled into bed that her console began to blink an alarm.

She opened it and discovered a new email from Spock. It stated simply:

_My Nyota,_

_I am fine. There is no reason for concern._

_Your Spock_

It was...unusually short. She immediately tried calling him on subspace vid. There were three tones on his end and then he was there on her screen in front of her.

"Nyota," Spock said. "I did not wish to wake you..."

Nyota swallowed and took a breath. Across portions of his face were the dull gleam of dermal repair strips. Beneath the strips she could see faint blue-green welts. An emerald-green cut was visible on his lips.

"My Spock," Nyota whispered. "Your face --"

"All my injuries are superficial, Nyota, I assure you," Spock replied. His face showed no emotion; his arms were at his sides. Neither was particularly unusual.

Nyota reached up to put her fingertips at the corner of the screen. And then something unusual did happen. Spock did not immediately respond.

"Spock?"

Slowly he drew a hand up to the screen; he did not extend just two fingers, though -- he couldn't. His digits were almost completely encased in bandaging.

Nyota sucked in her lips and took a deep breath but did not move her hand.

"Can you tell me what happened?" asked Nyota.

"I received some burns to my hands during an altercation today."

"Your other hand, too?" she asked, very worried.

He raised it almost shyly. It also was wrapped in a bandage. No wonder his email had been brief; he couldn't type.

"They will be fully mended in approximately twelve hours, but until then the medical staff believe it would be best to protect them from further injury," Spock replied. He could have been talking about the weather.

"Do I want to know the details of how you got this injury?" Nyota said out loud. Saying it out loud may have been a mistake.

"I wrested a rifle from a Klingon's grip while the muzzle was still hot," Spock replied. "Unavoidably, my hands were..."

"It's okay, Spock. I think that is all I want to hear," said Nyota. And it was. She found herself really not wanting to know how a Klingon with a rifle had gotten that close.

"Spock, two people in your away team --" Nyota began, then stopped herself. "Are you alright, Spock?"

Spock blinked. "As I have stated, all my injuries are superficial and --"

"I mean-- I mean, are you all right emotionally?" she asked.

"Oh." He tilted his head and looked away. "My human colleagues have been asking me that same question all day. I presume it has something to do with the death of two of my fellow crew members. Or perhaps the altercation itself...but I am...fine."

He looked back at Nyota. "That is my honest assessment of my mental state, Nyota."

If Spock were human, she might have suspected he was in shock, but...she remembered the email she'd been reading earlier. And she remembered the complete lack of affection he'd had for her that first night he'd kissed her -- even after she had worked in close proximity to him for over half a year.

Most things were abstractions to Spock. Most people were abstractions...

He was Vulcan in so many ways, and they were a violent warlike people underneath their logic. Perhaps for Vulcans, being unfazed by death was normal -- it would certainly be adaptive...

"Then I will take your word for it," she said.

His shoulders visibly loosened. "Thank you, Nyota. I have found the constant inquiries both inappropriate and uncomfortable. I did have an unpleasant experience today, however."

"Yes?" Nyota asked, wondering what could be more unpleasant than hand-to-hand combat with Klingons.

"The nurse who bandaged my hand--when she was testing my fingers for nerve damage, I was unable to put up my mental blocks. It was...disturbing." Spock almost visually shuddered.

Nyota swallowed a sad laugh. He was disturbed by a nurse's care, but not by death or by Klingons.

She decided to change the topic. "So, did you discover anything of interest in the asteroid belt you were surveying yesterday?"

Spock's lips quirked, "Yes, indeed I did. Earth's asteroid belt has never been a planet. It is matter that was unable to coalesce due to the high gravitational pull of Jupiter and Saturn. This belt, however..."

x x x x x x x x

Pike pressed the chime on Number One's door. He heard her move inside and then the door whooshed open. She stood before him, a book in her hands, a slight smile on her face.

"Chris, I was wondering when you'd come down to check on me," she said.

Pike said nothing. His hand automatically went up to brush the cut on her forehead still partially visible beneath the dermal repair strips. He stopped his hand in mid-air, and she looked down. It was a gesture he never would have made towards a male crewmember. But she wasn't a male crewmember, and over one hundred thousand years of evolution were hard to fight. Of course he wanted to protect her...

Of course she wouldn't want that; she'd despise him for it.

He coughed, dropped his hand. "So how did our new boy do down there?"

Number One lifted her chin. Her almost smile returned. "He performed amazingly well, considering he was still a combat virgin. Once he got over the Vulcan compulsion to make all violence be in self defense."

"Did Mr. Logical wait for them to fire first?" Pike asked.

"Yes..." Number One rolled her eyes. "But after they started firing he did not hold back. He was a monster...or a machine, depending on whose side you were on, I guess."

"In other words, he was a Vulcan," Pike said.

"A Vulcan," Number One agreed.

**A/N:**

Reviews are how fan fiction authors get paid. If you liked it, please review it...also, let us know if you DON'T like it...YOU are shaping this story.

Some stories I love...and no, these aren't ones I've written....For real hilarity read "Sweetest Day" ... I favorited it...click my name, then my favorites tab...  
Also, for the most Spockilicious story not featuring any sex you must read "Joyride"...also in my favorites. Its brilliant...

Thanks -

Sonnet #130

_My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;  
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;  
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;  
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.  
I have seen roses damask'd, red and white,  
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;  
And in some perfumes is there more delight  
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.  
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know  
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;  
I grant I never saw a goddess go;  
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:  
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare  
As any she belied with false compare._


	8. On The Hook

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock or Nyota**

**On the Hook**

Nyota looked up from her PADD. Her comm was blinking...she identified the caller...and immediately felt a wave of panic. It was Spock. It wasn't his scheduled time to call...She flipped on the screen.

"Good day--" Spock said.

"What's wrong, Spock? What happened?" Nyota said.

"Nothing is wrong." Spock looked down for a moment, then back at her. "Why do you ask?"

Nyota heaved a sigh of relief. "It's not our normally-scheduled time for a call...so I thought..."

"Ah...I see," he said. He raised an eyebrow. "In your list of attributes of mine you favored, I noticed that spontaneity was glaringly absent. I thought I might remedy that."

Nyota laughed; partly it was the eyebrow, partly it was the joy in seeing him unexpectedly, partly it was relief that he hadn't called to inform her that his arm had gotten blown off or something.

She had been monitoring the Farragut from the long range sensor array. She knew the ship was nowhere near danger of the sentient type, but Spock had recently discovered an asteroid dwelling non-sentient organism that squirted a natural explosive as a defensive mechanism. Spock found it fascinating...and, really, she did, too--but it did cause her to be a trifle concerned.

Spock observed her and tilted his head. "It seems my first attempt is going well."

"Yes," she bounced a little and smiled despite herself. "Wow! Experiments in spontaneity!"

"Indeed. Now seemed an appropriate time to try. Normally at this hour the ship's personal subspace networks are jammed. It is a very popular time to call home. But since everyone is preparing to go to the memorial service for Blake and Ramirez, I deduced there would be bandwidth available..."

Nyota stopped bouncing. "There's a memorial service? When?"

"In five minutes and thirteen seconds."

"Why aren't you in your dress uniform, Spock?"

Spock tilted his head. "Pardon?"

Oh no. "Spock, aren't you going?"

"Nyota, the invitation said, 'Attendance requested,' not required. I believe I am 'off the hook,' as you say."

x x x x x x x x

Nyota bowed her head when he said 'off the hook.' He watched as she took a deep breath.

"Thank you so much for calling me, Spock. I am so glad you did...but you have to go to that memorial service."

Spock's eyes drifted sideways to the closet that housed his dress uniform. "Why?"

"Because even if you're not required to be there, it is important that you are. It will show that you cared..."

Spock tilted his head. "But, Nyota, I did not 'care' about Ramirez or Blake. Certainly it is unfortunate that they were slain; security personal have had to rearrange their schedules to accommodate for their loss...and, of course, their friends and families will grieve. But I did not know them."

Nyota took a deep breath. "Then you should go to show you appreciated their sacrifice...not only Ramirez's and Blake's, but their friends' sacrifice as well. They lost someone they cared about..."

He stiffened. Spock looked at Nyota. "Would they not see me as an intruder? I was not close to Ramirez or Blake. Would I not be viewed by their close associates as..." he tried to find the words, "a fraud?"

She tilted her head. "No, no, not at all. They'll appreciate it. And it will help them feel closer to you..."

Spock remembered Nurse Chapel's feelings as she'd touched his hands while bandaging them.

"Nyota, I am not certain I want the crew to feel closer to me..."

"I want them to feel closer to you!" She almost shouted it.

Spock blinked.

"I want you to give them every reason to care about you...every reason to want to fight for you..." Nyota said.

"It is their job to fight for me, as it is my job to fight for them," Spock said. "They do not need an emotional attachment in order..."

"They do not need, but it won't hurt." She leaned towards the screen and pressed her fingers to the corner. "Please, Spock...do it for me."

And of course, he did.

x x x x x x

Pike itched in his dress uniform but didn't show his discomfort to the Vulcan woman on the screen.

"Captain Pike," T'Quilloc said, "I cannot tell you what I know...unfortunately...but I can tell you what I think."

"Well, please do tell," said Pike trying to keep his eyes on her and not look at the young Vulcan man standing behind her. The Vulcan man's face was unlined, but his hair was white. He wore gray robes...Pike had no doubt what he was. He was glad he wasn't meeting T'Quilloc in person. Golarth had been right...

"I do not believe Golarth's assessment to be accurate. The saboteurs, as you call them, are too technologically sophisticated to be a renegade group. They move too quickly and interfere with our communications networks too easily. Logically this must mean that they act on behalf of an enemy state that has significant resources to..."

"You still haven't answered my question. What are Mad Dogs?" Pike actually knew it was a spacer term for Vulcan without logic -- he'd asked around. But he was curious as to why T'Quilloc was avoiding answering the question.

T'Quilloc stiffened. "I was getting to that. But as I said before, it must be the work of an enemy state. One that is technologically sophisticated -- perhaps the Cardassians or the Romulans..."

"Number One and I don't have time for this run-around right now, T'Quilloc. Thank you for your personal assessment." Pike turned and looked back at his first officer. She was also in her dress uniform.

His first officer nodded at him. "We are already late for the Memorial Service."

"How is Lieutenant Commander Spock?" asked T'Quilloc suddenly.

Number One and Pike looked at one another.

Then T'Quilloc looked down momentarily. "Captain Pike, the presence of a Vulcan aboard your ship presents unique opportunities for cooperation and...information sharing between us."

Huh? What was she getting at? Why did she look ever so slightly...nervous...?

"As long as you have a citizen of Vulcan aboard your ship, Vulcan Intelligence and the Vulcan Defense Force are allowed to act to protect this citizen."

"What are you getting at, T'Quilloc?" Number One asked.

"I am merely stating...a fact," T'Quilloc replied. "T'Quilloc...out."

Without saying a word, Pike went for the door, Number One falling in step with him.

"What was that all about?" Number One asked.

Pike was running it through his mind...information sharing...Spock. He knew that T'Quilloc wanted to share more than she was allowed with him.

Rounding a corner Number One and Pike nearly ran into Spock. His science officer was decked out in his dress uniform.

"Oh good, Spock, you're coming to the Memorial Service..." Pike said. "I forgot to tell you it isn't really optional..."

**A/N:**

Reviews are the only way Fanfiction writers and their betas get paid. So if this added anything to your day, please let us know.


	9. Epsilon 1235

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Pike or Nyota  
**

Thanks to Beta Reader Notes from the Classroom

**Epsilon- 1235  
**  
Another of the human colonists came forward and threw an outdated phaser rifle into the pile.

"That's it?" asked Captain Pike. "You know we'll run scans for energy phaser signatures."

Spock had counted nearly two hundred and fifty firearms, most of dubious quality. He was surprised by Captain Pike's tone. It was as if he expected more.

Another colonist stepped forward--human, male, nearly as tall as Spock, and probably in his mid-thirties. He had a slightly unkempt mane of blonde hair, gray blue eyes, and a smile Spock couldn't read. All the other colonists made way for him -- except one human female of African descent. She stepped up so that she was by his side.

"That's it, Pike," the blonde man said.

"We're just innocent colonists," the woman added, raising her chin in a way that Spock found very familiar. In Nyota it meant defiance...did it mean the same in this woman? He could not help but look at her. Her hair was different than his Nyota's...long and in tight spirals. She was built more solidly and was nearly as tall as the man next to her. Her nose was more delicate than Nyota's...but her lips, eyes, the burnt caramel color of her skin and her bearing...

"Twenty light-years from the neutral zone. Well within Federation territory...why would we need more weapons?" the man added.

Spock tilted his head. He was almost certain he detected sarcasm. It was true that twenty light-years was not much at warp, but along the most convenient trajectory from the neutral zone there was an asteroid field...which made approaching the planet inconvenient. What's more, the Epsilon - 1235 colony had never been attacked in its nearly fifty years of existence...there just wasn't much here to be worthwhile...

"Yeah, right, Roland...Angel...I know you've got your own Wild West out here," Pike responded.

The woman known as Angel tightened her brow. "60,000 colonists and we haven't had a murder in over seven years. It's not the Wild West."

"And how many accidents?" asked Pike.

Angel was silent.

"Oh, cut it, Pike," said Roland. "I was in Starfleet. I know how many accidents occur in basic training. We're no worse than that, believe me."

"During operations it's Starfleet policy to disarm unincorporated settlements," Pike said, referring to the limbo-like status of the Epsilon 1235's affiliation. Technically, it was within Federation territory. But it had no emissaries to the Federation -- it was too small to be allowed any.

At one time the Federation had attempted to give every colony at least two representatives in its legislative body, but the legislature quickly became clogged with representatives of tiny settlements pushing their own agendas that hardly fit the needs of the Federation at large. So settlements of less than a million no longer had representation...they also didn't have taxation, which suited many just fine.

Many of these colonies tended to be anarchistic and just plain violent. Hence disarming the citizenry...

"We did allow your police force to remain armed, and we'll only keep your weapons until we're done replacing your reactor capsule," Pike said.

"We don't want your reactor..." Roland began.

"The reactor that was your power source was made out of duct tape and spit. Its waste byproduct was fissile material. If attacked and hit, it would vaporize your whole colony," Pike snapped.

"Why would we be under attack since we're twenty light years from the neutral zone...or are we in danger? If we are, give us back our weapons!" said Roland, looking Pike square in the eye.

Some of the colonists behind him grumbled in agreement.

"The only reason you're replacing our reactor is so you can assure that our subspace communication station is online and can help contribute to your long distance subspace array..." said Angel.

"And is that so bad for you?" asked Pike. Even Spock could see he was exasperated. "You get a reliable source of power; we get information...for God's sake, you people don't even pay taxes to the Federation and we're protecting you."

A man from the crowd, long haired and unshaven, yelled back, "You're not protecting us by taking away our guns."

x x x x x x x

Nyota arrived at the subspace signal array and Chang-He called out, "Hey, I'm listening in on your friend Spock on Epsilon - 1235."

Chang-He and Nyota now had an understanding. When he wasn't there, she listened in for anything on the U.S.S. Sugihara where his sister was posted. When she wasn't there, he listened for anything on the Farragut. She strongly suspected he had put together the nature of her relationship with Spock but he simply did not care...not with her helping keep tabs on his sister.

The neutral zone was a dangerous place now. Chang-He and Nyota were among the few to know. The Academy wasn't telling the press and everyone working on the array had been called in for numerous meetings to discuss how very important it was for there to be no leaks.

Nyota understood...Independent Federation shippers were blaming the Klingons. Independent Klingons, Romulans, and now Cardassian shippers were blaming the Federation for the strange disappearances in the neutral zone. More independent ships had skirmished with each other in the past months than had vanished in the past six.

The neutral zone was a tinderbox. Public anger could be the spark.

None of the governments wanted to talk about the vanishings, probably because they couldn't explain them, and no one wanted to admit that to their populace...  
"I'll put it on speaker," said Chang-He.

The first voice she heard was Captain Pike's. _"Lieutenant Commander Spock, the cargo has just docked in the shuttle bay."_

Nyota could guess what the cargo was...it was the nearly-spent reactor power capsule that the Farragut was replacing. Spock had been filling her in on all the details; of course...

_"The Farragut has been called to escort a freighter from the neutral zone..."_ Pike's voice continued. "_You and your security detail will be responsible for ensuring that the new reactor capsule is properly installed and fully operational."_

That made her pause; Spock hadn't told her this…it must be new.

_"Understood, Captain,"_ said her man over the speakers. There was something about hearing Spock's voice when she was working...when she wasn't supposed to hear him. She couldn't quite suppress a smile.

_"We will rendezvous with you again in approximately five days. You're in charge down there, Lieutenant Commander. Pike out."_

Nyota blinked. That was new. The Farragut had originally intended to stay in orbit until the full installation had been completed.

"Do you know anything about this freighter they're going after?" Nyota asked Chang-He.

"No, but Starfleet Command has been chatting with the Farragut over an encrypted channel for the half hour," Chang-He replied.

Nyota took a sharp intake of breath…that was not good news for the remainder of the crew on the Farragut. The ship was going to the neutral zone on a potentially dangerous mission with a reactor capsule in the shuttle bay filled with fissile material…

Then she caught herself. Spock had explained that he had rigged the capsule so that it used the last of its unspent fuel to generate its own containment field.

…and in any case, if there was photon fire strong enough to pierce the Farragut's shields and shuttle bay doors…well, they were already dead in the water, fissile material or not.

Chang-He shook his head. "At least Spock won't be with them. He's over twenty light-years from the neutral zone…you can relax for a while."

**A/N:**

Reviews are how we get paid…so if you liked (or were liking and are now getting disappointed) let us know!

Oh...and next chapter is a doozie! Hee hee!


	10. Rude Awakenings

Disclaimer: I don't own spock, nyota or starfleet.

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom!

I meant an emotional douzy...have fun.

**Rude Awakenings**

A too-warm hand slid down the outside of Nyota's thigh and pushed her through her dorm room. A feverish mouth pressed against her lips; a tongue that was slightly too dry met her own.

It had been so long. She tore open the jacket of Spock's instructor's uniform and pulled it off his shoulders...she left his shirt on in her haste to get to the front of his trousers. Unhooking them she pushed them down over Spock's hips as he began nipping at the bottom of her jaw. She moaned. His hand slipped up to push down her pajama bottoms, not even bothering to remove the tee-shirt she was wearing--his tee-shirt.

He pushed her back and then down on to her narrow dorm bed. He put one hand at her temple, his mouth back on her lips. The length of him was pressed against her thigh. She could feel the emotion surge through the link between them--deep, vast blackness that went on forever like the darkness between the stars. He wanted her, wanted to be in and around her, envelope her in all ways. And she really wanted to be enveloped. And penetrated...and, oh God, why was he holding back? She was so close...

...in her dorm bed...

Wait...Spock couldn't be in her dorm bed. He couldn't even be in her dorm room. And he'd come in his instructor's uniform? This wasn't right. He had to go...had to leave. Right. Now.

Bolting upright, Nyota found herself alone on her bed gasping in the darkness...disturbingly aroused. Gaila's gentle breathing whispered from the bed next to her.

No. No. No....

She slapped her hands against her face. Couldn't she even relax in a dream? She was so messed up --

Hearing a faint chiming from her desk, she looked over to see her folded subspace vid monitor blinking. Her heart raced. Something was wrong. Spock would never call at this hour...maybe it was her brother Jabari? He wasn't always as considerate....

Wrapping a blanket around her, she padded quickly over to her console and opened it. She was met with the static of an encrypted message from Spock. Fumbling slightly, she entered the access code...and there he was.

"Good eve..." Spock began.

Nyota cut him off. "Spock, is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything is fine." He lowered his voice and licked his lips. "I am sorry to wake you..."

She smiled in relief. "It's okay. I was awake anyway, actually..."

Gaila mumbled in her sleep behind Nyota.

"Let me just take this into the other room..." Nyota whispered.

The other room was the bathroom. Nyota wrapped the blanket around her and settled on the hard floor with the console on her knees.

She grinned at Spock. "Okay, I won't wake up Gaila now. You're still on Epsilon 1235...but I heard the Farragut left today."

Spock did not have to ask how she knew. "Yes, indeed they did."

"Show me where you're staying!" Nyota said, anxious to see the building that had been his lodgings for the past four days. Spock had been billeted down on the planet since the beginning of the mission on Epsilon 1235, but this was the first time he had called her.

Spock panned his camera around the room he was sharing with the rest of the crew. It was in the home of Roland, the "governor" of Epsilon 1235, and his wife Angel. Spock had said it was "rustic" -- and it was. The whole room, floors, walls and ceiling seemed to be made of some rough untreated reddish wood. There were three rows of single beds in the room now...perhaps as many as twenty -- all neatly made and empty except for the one Spock was sitting on.

Spock panned back to himself and raised both of his eyebrows...a gesture she interpreted as "See, not much."

"How many of you are left down there now?" she asked.

"Only five. Lieutenant John Carlisle from engineering and three ensigns assigned to us from security," Spock replied.

Nyota briefly thought about telling him about her dream...then changed her mind. He was in a public place, even if he was alone right now. It was amazing he was even calling her.

"I know you managed to replace the reactor capsule, Spock. How is the repair of the power infrastructure going?" Spock had discovered that not only had the old reactor capsule been held together with spit and duct tape...much of the power grid was, too.

"Repairs and standardizations are going well, Nyota. We should be done easily by the time the Farragut returns in five days."

"Did you get to go out and explore the local flora and fauna again today?"

Nyota knew Spock was excited, or, in his words, "extremely curious," about the local plants and animals. Epsilon 1235 had experienced a natural, or unnatural, nuclear event about 12,000 years ago. The radiation had killed off everything but the small mammals and the insects. He had told her that the number of species on the planet was immense. His theory was that radiation had caused excessive mutations, and natural selection hadn't had enough time to weed out all but the best yet.

"Yes, I have Nyota. And it has been quite fascinating, but --"

"Discover any wandering mutant radiation zombies?" she giggled, teasing him. Epsilon 1235 was highly irradiated outside the immediate vicinity of the colony, which was why the colony was so small...outside of a few hundred square kilometers the amount of radiation levels were high enough to induce sickness and even death within a few weeks.

"Not yet." Spock raised an eyebrow. His voice became rough. "Nyota, let us discuss something else right now." He began to slip off his black uniform tee.

Nyota froze. Was he? In a public place?

"Spock, your crew..."

"Will not be back, Nyota, for another forty-nine minutes and fifty two seconds -- by pre-arrangement." His tee shirt was over his head but still on his wrists. The position made the muscles in his chest and arms bulge slightly.

He stared hard at the camera. "We have unlimited subspace access here, Nyota. And we will not be recorded. We decided that allowing each of us some...personal time...to contact our families would be..." He tilted his head and licked his lips. "Good for morale."

Her eyes got wide. She swallowed. He seemed...possessed. Which was kind of sexy...No, not _kind of_ sexy.

"What are you wearing, Nyota?" he asked, pulling the tee shirt off his wrists.

"The tee shirt you gave me after our adventure at Delta 989..." Of course. She always slept in it.

He purred. Closed his eyes. Opened them again and whispered, "Take it off."

x x x x x x x x x

Spock looked at Nyota's naked body, partially covered by her duvet, curled up in a fetal position on the floor of the bathroom she shared with her roommate. He traced the curve of her hips with his fingers. She smiled at him. He felt his lips quirk in return.

Naked under the blankets of his small bed, he was finally…content and at ease.

He might have been able to meditate through this...but...he hadn't been able to meditate properly since coming to Epsilon 1235 due to sharing his sleeping arrangements with seventeen other crew members for the past four days. Now there were only five of them...but the longer one went without meditation, the more difficult it became to achieve that state of peace.

The past few days had been as bad as basic training. But in basic training there hadn't been an Angel to catch his eye -- her gestures, the color of her skin; they were just so close to his bond-mate's...

"That was nice," said Nyota. _His_ Nyota.

He stood up and started putting on his clothes. "Yes," he agreed, raising an eyebrow as he slipped the uniform black tee shirt over his head.

"Can I expect more calls...over the next few days?" she asked.

"If it is agreeable to you...it is late there now. I understand if --"

"It is agreeable and you know it! Even if we are just talking, Spock. About the bugs and plants and little animals you have there...I loved the pictures of the flowers you sent."

His heart skipped a bit. "I thought you might enjoy those."

Sitting back on his bed he pulled his socks over his ankles. He could have said goodbye to her and done these mundane things without her watching...but he hated to part from her, even if it was only the vid screen...

"I like watching you get dressed...almost as much as I love watching you get undressed," she said.

And apparently she did not mind...

Spock allowed himself one last, long purr and then said, "Nyota, I must go. In one minute's time it is Ensign Singh's turn..."

"To have some subspace nookie with his wife?"

Spock raised an eyebrow disapprovingly, but his lip quirked. "To have some personal time to talk to his family..."

She pressed her fingers to the screen. "Get out of here," she said with a grin.

Spock touched his finger to the screen. "Goodbye, my Nyota." The screen flickered to static. Disengaging the encryption device and placing it in his pocket, he went to the simple hinged door of the room and unlocked it. Ensign Singh was standing on the other side at attention.

"At ease, Ensign," Spock said.

"Yes, sir." Singh stared at Spock, smiling. "Sir?"

"Yes, Ensign?" Spock asked, putting his hands behind his back. He wondered if he could take a shower now...or if it would be too obvious.

"Thank you for letting us do this...we never thought a Vulcan would understand..."

"Vulcans have families too, Ensign."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir...well, I'm going to go watch my wife put my baby girl to bed. Do you want to see a picture of her? I mean, my baby girl, not my wife...she's really..."

"No," Spock said.

As the ensign closed the door, Spock made his way to the shower.

A few minutes later he was downstairs making his way to the kitchen...Spock had taken his subspace communication hour during dinner time. Most of his crew were out on the porch, but he heard Roland's and Angel's voices inside ahead of him.

Spock respected Roland and Angel...They were both quite business-like. Roland was the governor of the colony, but it was very much a joint effort with Angel. The two also ran the largest homestead on Epsilon 1235 -- because, as Angel had explained, everyone on Epsilon had to do real work.

After that first day with Pike, they had done everything in their power to be accommodating. In Roland's words, "So you get your job done and get out of here as soon as possible." Neither Roland nor Angel tolerated any obstruction or even rudeness from the other colonists. It had made it much easier for Spock and his crew to do their jobs.

Right now he could hear Angel saying, "I should straighten it."

"But I like it the way it is," said Roland.

"You always say that."

"Because it's true," responded Roland.

Spock expected they were talking about something on their homestead or in their house. But as he rounded the corner into the kitchen, he saw Angel leaning against Roland. Roland's pale white fingers were entwined in the long, tight black curls of her hair and he was kissing her cheek gently. "It's like a pillow..."

An hour earlier Spock might have been distracted by the sight of the two of them together...there was something about the sight of Roland's white skin against Angel's dark caramel that filled him with longing -- but right now he was feeling exceptionally relaxed.

His eyes went immediately to the kitchen table. Someone had thoughtfully laid out some dinner for him...all vegetarian.

"Ah, Mr. Spock," Angel said, sounding startled. "We left some food out for you..."

x x x x x x x x x

Spock slept easily that night -- and not just because there were fewer people snoring around him. After exactly two hours he carefully got out of bed and quietly changed into his uniform without waking any of the sleeping humans around him. And then he went into the hallway to meditate.

A few days ago he had literally been tripped over in the hall, but there were fewer people coming and going now. Curling his legs up to his body, he slipped easily into a trance.

...He was in exactly that position when the first tremor hit.

**A/N:**

If you liked, please let me know...if you didn't please let me know!


	11. Tremors

**Disclaimer: I don't own Starfleet, Spock, Giotto, Nyota or any random Klingons, Romulans or Cardassians**

Special thanks to beta Notes from a Classroom.

**Tremors**

The human crewmember cowered before Nadock and the other Klingon freighter captains. "The blast should have ignited the reactor capsule and vaporized the entire colony in one blow," he said.

"Well, it failed," snarled Vagarth, one of Nadock's fellow captains. "We should kill this human immediately."

Nadock snarled, "No! He lived on Epsilon 1235...he can still be of use to us...can't you human?"

"I can...I can...I can be useful," the human stammered. Nadock watched him, disgusted with his fear and servility.

He turned to his two engineers -- a Romulan and a Cardassian. Nadock was an equal opportunity employer.

"What is the status report on the planet below, Romulan?" Nadock bellowed. Nadock could not remember the Romulan's name...but he respected him.

The Romulan had identified the location of the few monitoring devices in system and helped Nadock and his fellow captains avoid them. And it was the Romulan that suggested they communicate in targeted bursts of light in a language he described as "Morse Code" to avoid radio wave frequency surveillance. Nadock would reward the Romulan with the opportunity for an honorable death.

"The nuclear power capsule is still intact. But the main power grid has been hit...approximately 80% of power is down. The subspace relay center is intact, but currently offline," the Romulan responded.

"Sir, should we launch another missile strike at the power capsule?" his helmsman asked with a gleeful snarl.

It had been a direct hit...the capsule should have blown if it was as old and decrepit as the human had claimed. They had come too far to fail...

"No," Nadock looked to the engineers. "We have too few missiles to waste on another failure..."

"Captain Nadock," said the human, straightening up, "I know where their emergency shelter is."

The Romulan smiled...the Cardassian tilted his head.

From the planet below a phaser beam crackled against the freighter's shields. Nadock hissed in annoyance; a few of those and his ship would blow. "How long until that cannon is down!"

x x x x x x x

The call with Nyota had left Spock content and relaxed. His meditation was extremely deep, but he snapped to consciousness immediately as the earth moved. That didn't mean he knew what was going on. Catching his swaying body with his hands, he looked around. There were no lights in the house anywhere...

From below he heard Roland shouting to Angel, "Was that an earthquake or...?"

He heard shouts from the room where his crew was billeted. "Electricity is out!" Ensign Giotto yelled.

"I'm on the comm...I can't reach anyone at the power facility..." Angel replied. "Wait...I've got someone from central on the line. They say it was a..."

Spock jumped to his feet to join his team in the sleeping quarters. The earth shook again and explosions boomed in the distance...for a moment there were no voices in the house. He stabilized himself on the door frame. That wasn't an earthquake. He'd lived through earthquakes in San Francisco and on Vulcan. This felt different; there was no familiar rolling sensation...the movement was too fast...

Looking up; he found his eyes locked with Ensign Singh's. The human's expression was unreadable. Spock remembered that the red-shirted Ensign had requested to be assigned to assist Spock specifically.

Perhaps Singh felt a bond after their previous encounter with Klingons? Perhaps he hoped for words of reassurance now? Spock had no idea what those words would be...or even if they were needed.

Spoke spoke only what he did know. "Prepare to evacuate," he said. "We are under attack."

Ensign Singh turned to the four other Starfleet crew members. "You heard the man! Get ready to move!"

Spock's hand went to the back of his pocket and had a small moment of panic. Then he felt Nyota's encryption device safely tucked away there. He would leave his two-D console behind, but not that. He went forward to retrieve his pack.

From below he heard Angel shout, "Roland, they hit the emergency shelter!"

x x x x x x x

Nyota was in a good mood as she walked into the sensor array lab. Spock's unexpected and passionate call the night before had left her relaxed and happy -- if a little sleepy. She was literally humming and swinging her hands to an internal rhythm when she accidentally let go of her PADD. She winced inwardly as it flew from her fingers and hit the floor with a resounding crash.

Chang-He jumped in his seat, saw what had happened, and grinned. "Butterfingers!"

Giving him an annoyed look, she stooped and picked it up. As she straightened she felt the ground sway beneath her feet and the room momentarily went black. She blinked. Her vision was still slightly dark.

Trying not to show her disorientation, she made her way to her station. She took a deep breath; the swaying stopped and clarity returned. Then she did what she always did when she came on shift...she tuned into Epsilon 1235. It was approximately 02:00 colony time...and since their subspace station literally sat in the middle of the colony, there was no time lag.

Nyota didn't expect to hear anything other than the hum of static, although an occasional short band hobbyist wouldn't be unusual. What she did hear made her take a sharp breath.

Don't be nervous...Don't be nervous...these things are held together by duct tape and spit. Right...this isn't unusual.

But she couldn't ignore the sinking feeling in her stomach. From Epsilon 1235 there was nothing but complete and utter silence.

x x x x x x x

"Spock!" He heard Roland shouting. "Ensign Singh, Ensign Giotto, Lieuten--"

"We are here..." Spock replied. His team was behind him. None of them seemed panicked, a testament to Starfleet training.

"We have to evacuate..." Roland said. "People in central have confirmed by telescope that there are at least five freighters hovering in orbit..."

His voice was drowned in the sound of explosions. Spock noticed Roland had a pack on his back...and what appeared to be some antiquated firearms.

Roland saw his gaze. "No energy signature. But not as customizable as phasers. They only have one setting -- death."

Ensign Giotto said from behind Spock, "Lieutenant Commander, they have contraband firearms. I don't think we should trust..."

"Ensign Giotto," Spock said with sudden certainty, "if he had any intention of killing us, we would already be dead."

"Thank you for being logical, Mr. Spock," Roland said.

Spock didn't have time to reflect upon the compliment; he knew something else with certainty. "We can discuss this later. We must depart." He swung his own pack over his shoulder and started for the door.

"The main shelter has been hit, Roland. Where do I tell people to go?" Angel said as she and Roland fell into step behind Spock.

Spock noted that although Angel spoke loud enough to be heard, she didn't sound nervous. She sounded like Nyota when she was determined...

"The twin cliffs...tell them to go to the twin cliffs..." Roland said.

"Yeah..." said Angel. "Yeah, that is best..."

Exiting the house, Spock stopped short...and the humans behind him nearly ran into him. And then he heard six collected gasps as they saw what he saw. Roland's home was at the edge of the colony...the porch overlooked the center part. Dark specks of shuttles were dropping from sky, lasers ripping from them in rapid succession. The colony was bursting into flames. An anti-spacecraft cannon sent off pulses of lasers into the night sky above, ignoring the small shuttles, aiming for the freighters above in the atmosphere. There was an explosion above...and then concentrated fire from the cannon before it fell silent.

There was a buzz on Angel's comm, "We hit a ship above, but the cannon is down...and the tunnel to the secondary armory has collapsed, Roland," she whispered.

Spock swung his head. What? They'd left weapons with Epsilon's police force; it was regulation to only allow weapons with an organized fighting force when Starfleet personnel were on these unincorporated colonies. But they had a secondary armory?

Roland was staring at the fires. "Doesn't matter, Angel; we're not going that way right now."

There was no time to think about this. Spock turned to his officers. "Get to the shuttle craft, now." He nodded at Roland and Angel as they moved by him. "You, too." They were Federation citizens. It was his duty to protect them.

Roland nodded and pulled Angel, who had just begun shouting into her comm. "Tell everyone to get to the cliffs! Shuttle craft have been spotted...they plan to invade..."

The three of them began to lope after Spock's team when they heard the whir of engines overhead. A large spotlight came down and flashed across Roland's house and the lawn...then stopped on the Federation shuttle craft. As the spotlight hung on the shuttle, Spock looked up for identifying markings on the craft shining the light.

"Spock!" shouted Roland. Spock looked down at the man, now wrapping his arms around Angel. "Get down!"

From the front of his team he thought he heard Ensign Singh shouting, "Hit the dirt!"

Spock looked up again...he could almost see the craft's markings....

Suddenly Roland was ramming Spock with his and Angel's bodies. "I said, get down!"

...and then he was in awkward pile of himself, Angel, and Roland. He tried to move...but stopped as an explosion ripped through the night air.

Debris flew above Spock's head. Where there once had been a shuttle, there was now a blasted-out inferno.

Angel was the first to stand. "Everyone up! Everyone up!"

Pulling himself to his feet, Spock quickly scanned his team members; they all appeared unhurt.

The spotlight began to move across the lawn in their direction.

"This way!" screamed Roland. "Run!"

**A/N:**

Those crazy Klingons!

I don't want to bog my readers down with logistics...so I try to include only what is absolutely necessary. If something seems really implausible it's probably one of those little things I thought would put you to sleep so I left it out….but let me know and I'll slip in a line here or there...

Notes and I really appreciate your feedback, everyone. Please review if you liked it – or if you didn't. Help me become a better writer so I can better entertain you!


	12. Nadock's War

**Disclaimer: I don't own Starfleet, Spock, Giotto, Nyota or any random Klingons, Romulans or Cardassians**

Special thanks to beta Notes from a Classroom.

**Nadock's War**

"Sir," Nyota said to Lieutenant Jane Cleary, "Epsilon 1235's subspace array has been down since I started my shift three and three quarter hours ago..."

"You've told me that, Cadet," the Lieutenant said.

"I think we should be concerned," Nyota said, trying to keep her voice even.

"Cadet, Epsilon 1235 is so far out in the woop woop..."

Nyota's mouth opened. Woop woop?

"Butt end of nowhere, Cadet," said the Lieutenant with a kindly smile.

...the kindliness of it made Nyota want to slap her. Cleary wasn't taking this seriously...

"These stations go down all the time," the Lieutenant continued. "They're having the reactor capsule of their power generator replaced...and from what I've heard, repairs to their electrical infrastructure as well...it is very conceivable they broke it while they were fixing it."

Not my man, Nyota thought. She licked her lips. "Yes, but maybe a ship should be sent to investigate?"

"Cadet," the Lieutenant sighed, "right now most of our ships are busy in the neutral zone. Epsilon 1235 is so far removed from where..." The Lieutenant looked down as though she wanted to say more.

"Lieutenant Cleary, Cadet Uhura," Chang-He called, "we're getting a signal from Epsilon 1235. They're talking to Starfleet Command...I'll put it on speaker."

Nyota caught her breath, hoping...

It was not Spock. The voice that cut through the room was rough but human. _"...We experienced a power outage. But we are currently undergoing repairs."_

He sounded nervous. Of course, he would, she told herself; they had just experienced a power outage...

The composed tones of a Starfleet officer responded. _"Epsilon 1235, do you require assistance? We could reinforce the Starfleet team already there."_

Did Nyota hear the man on Epsilon 1235 swallow?

_"Negative, negative...the situation is well under control,"_ the rough voice said quickly.

That was a quick dismissal from a place that had just lost power for four hours...and why hadn't their emergency generators kicked on for the subspace array? Surely they had emergency generators for such a vital piece of communication equipment?

_"Very well. We will expect updates, Epsilon 1235."_

_"Affirmative,"_ the rough voice said -- finally sounding calm.

_"Starfleet out."_

Nyota felt a pang in her stomach at Starfleet's easy acceptance of the message.

"You see, Cadet," said Lieutenant Cleary. "Nothing to worry about. You are dismissed."

As the Lieutenant walked away, Nyota swallowed. Something felt wrong...she needed a logical way to prove it...and her shift was ending...

x x x x x x x x

_"Affirmative," _said Nadock's human crewmember.

_"Starfleet out."_

"You see, he is useful to us," said Nadock to the two other Klingon captains. "...And will be again, no doubt. There is no need to kill him."

The human visibly straightened.

"Captain," his Cardassian engineer said, "we have destroyed 95% of the colony's buildings and infrastructure. This ruse," he waved a hand in the human's direction, "has bought us adequate time to depart. I say we consider this a victory and..."

"Silence!" Nadock bellowed. Angry murmurs came from the other Klingons. The Romulan hissed...the Romulan understood Nadock's need to exact vengeance.

This Cardassian, however...he might have to die sooner rather than later.

"It is not enough to destroy buildings!" Nadock shouted. "Buildings, roads, power stations...these are empty things! Things that can be rebuilt."

Families...honor...these were more difficult to recover...Nadock knew from experience.

"We will stay!" shouted his fellow Klingons. They understood. They all had lost clan members and honor.

"We will hunt down the colonists one by one! We do not want this to be just an attack on a little colony," Nadock spat. "We want this to be a genocide! This time we will give the Federation and our Empire," he paused to spit, "no excuse to avoid a war!"

Nadock took a deep breath. When the war came, he would be among the honorable dead, but his part in instigating it would be known far and wide throughout the Empire. It would be known as Nadock's War.

His name would be honored once again.

x x x x x x x x

For the first hour after the initial tremor, the sky above Epsilon 1235 had been alive with lights and sounds as civilian hover craft tried to dart from the city center to the outside borders of the colony. Most were shot down. A few space going vessels had also attempted to blast off through the atmosphere. From the ground, Spock and his team had seen them rise and then tumble like falling stars.

In a weird twist of the randomness of the universe, Spock and his team had wound up in the safest place possible that evening--on foot and on the ground.

Now they were on a tree-capped bluff in the forest surrounding the colony. They were nowhere near the cliffs...they needed to rest.

Or to be precise, the civilians they had been picking up along the way needed to rest. They had encountered groups of three and four as they made their way further from the center. All had come from the city on hover crafts and had been hit or landed as the sky became too dangerous. There were three middle-aged couples and some young adults all in good shape, and carrying three projectile rifles between them...but also two elderly women, a man, and seven children of various ages, all unarmed, of course.

Each time they had encountered a new group of survivors, Roland had given the same order to Spock's men and the civilians alike. "We all stay together. No one gets left behind."

As Federation officers, Spock and his crew had a duty to protect these civilians. And for now, sticking together seemed the most logical way to do it.

As they waited for the elderly and the young to catch their breath, Spock scanned the skies through night-vision binoculars. He watched one of the last of the colony's small police craft engage with an invader. The colony's police vehicles did have guns, but the attackers had more ships. In the end each police craft had been on its own suicide mission. Each tried to harry the invaders and allow as many civilians to escape as possible. Inevitably the police craft were obliterated...but none had retreated. Vulcan forces would have done no differently. The good of the many outweighed the good of the few...

Spock didn't hear humans say that, and yet now when the situation called for it, that is exactly what they did.

"These invaders aren't a military force, that's for sure," said Angel next to him, holding up her own set of goggles.

"Agreed," Spock replied. He searched through his encyclopedic knowledge of various vessels. "They appear to be tug craft -- usually used for hauling cargo between planets and orbiting freighters."

"They are outfitted with some really mean guns...and powerful shields," said Angel.

"So we've got some really determined pirates," said Roland. "But what would they want from Epsilon 1235? We don't have dilithium, or latinum...They can't keep this planet -- the Federation is going to come down on them hard...so it's not like we could make a good stronghold. It's a suicide mission for them."

"Do we have an identity on the species behind the attack?" Spock asked.

Angel hissed, "We've had reports that they are predominantly Klingons, but some transmissions I've been receiving have said they've seen Romulans, a few Cardassians; there was even a report of a human --"

"Beautiful, we're all cooperating now..." said Roland.

"Everybody down...." Ensign Giotto whispered.

Spock's hand went immediately to his phaser and he crouched low. Angel and Roland had their rifles around their bodies and were ready to fire a split second later. Ensigns Singh and Smith were waving down the civilians.

All was quiet in the surrounding trees. Spock didn't breathe...and then one of the children in the group cried out. From the forest came the sound of heavy footsteps and two Cardassians came slowly into view, rifles ready.

**A/N**:

Reviews are like credits for me and my beta (I make her work hard, and I don't pay her! She'd love to hear from you...oh, and me, too!)

More Nyota/Spock goodness coming up.


	13. No One Gets Left Behind Showers

**Disclaimer: I don't own Starfleet, Spock, Giotto, Nyota or any random Klingons, Romulans or Cardassians**

Special thanks to beta Notes from a Classroom.

**No One Gets Left Behind / Showers  
**

Spock stiffened, ready to fire...and then the Cardassians lifted their rifles above their heads.

Roland exhaled sharply. "Goddamn it, Goldilocks."

"Roland," said one of the Cardassians stepping forward, a male -- Spock guessed he was middle aged. His companion was younger, perhaps a teenager. He bore a striking resemblance to the one Roland addressed as Goldilocks.

"I am sorry to bother you. We seem to be experiencing a bit of the same difficulty you are," Goldilocks said.

From the humans he heard angry whispers. A middle-aged female Cardassian stepped forward with a young girl; she appeared to be carrying another child in her arms wrapped in a blanket.

"They don't belong with us, Roland," said a human male. "They've only lived in the colony for three years --"

The younger Cardassian male began to lower his rifle.

"Stop, Jedar," said Goldilocks, keeping his rifle held high.

Jedar obediently stopped but looked sideways at the older Cardassian.

"They are Cardassian," hissed a human female.

"Silence!" said Roland. "No one gets left behind."

"No one gets left behind?" whimpered an elderly human female, piercing the muttering of her fellow humans.

"Shhhh...Grandmother," Angel said. "That's what he said."

The mutters of the other humans quieted. Some of the humans began to pull their children closer...one of these said, "They should come."

...and Spock marveled. No one gets left behind...Such an economy of words -- an order, and a promise that unified the group. He would never have thought of it.

x x x x x x x x x x x

"Sir," Nyota said to Lieutenant Cleary, "there is something wrong with the communications from Epsilon 1235. So far there has been no communication from the away team, and the only humans we have spoken to are clearly--"

"Clearly what, Cadet Uhura? Not official Starfleet? A little rough around the edges? Look, it appears our away team completely blew their power infrastructure and is busily doing their best to fix it." There was no kindness in Cleary's voice now.

"But the away team should have at least talked to Captain Pike..."

"The civilian communications personnel have been in touch with the Farragut and Pike hasn't voiced any concern...You are aware of what is going on in the neutral zone right now, aren't you?"

Nyota swallowed. She was aware; it was all over the subspace array channels. Human freighters had attacked Klingon freighter clan ships -- clan ships didn't hold just seamen...they carried families and children. Pike and other Federation ships were desperately trying to take control of the situation before an all-out war broke out....they'd even had to fire on some human ships...

Nyota said, "Maybe Pike is too busy to--"

"As is every other ship in the fleet, Cadet! Dismissed."

Nyota opened her mouth to speak but then stopped. What was she going to say? When the power went out on Epsilon 1235, I got this really weird feeling...Oh, yeah, and my lover-boyfriend-bond-mate-almost-fiance hasn't emailed me or called me in over a day and a half...even though he said he was going to call me last night for some subspace vid sex...

Yeah, that would go over well...

She turned and went back to her station as the Lieutenant stormed out of the room.

The Lieutenant didn't see there was a problem. Starfleet didn't see there was a problem...and really, how often did great big turgid bureaucracies screw up intelligence? Let's see: Pearl Harbor, 9/11, the Tilear Massacre...She dropped her head into her hands.

Or maybe it was just that preventing an all-out war with the Klingon Empire was simply more important than a few thousand colonists and a small away team?

From behind her Chang-He spoke up. "You know...it's possible he is safer where he is now than on the Farragut..."

The thing was, considering the situation in the neutral zone…that actually might be true.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Out of the habit of a creature born on a desert planet, Spock never took long showers. He would step in, turn on the water, wet himself down, turn off the water and lather himself up. Only after he was sufficiently satisfied that the dirt and grime had been dislodged by the soap and scrubbing would he turn the water on again and rinse off...being careful to turn the water off as soon as it was unnecessary.

It was only on Earth in the company of human lovers that the thought of showers for pleasure ever occurred to him. For him alone he saw no benefit. After some initial experimentation he decided that for him and a partner it was overrated. Too cramped, too slippery, and natural lubricants tended to be washed away too easily. In short, he was not a fan.

But the first time Nyota asked him to take a shower with her -- well, it was after their first time, and he would given her just about anything she asked for. He'd opened up to her in ways he never had with anyone else...never wanted to with anyone else. He'd left plum sized bites on the back of her neck and shoulder and a necklace of bite marks along her clavicles. He'd demanded that she tear into his back until he was bloody.

It was a Vulcan thing...Nyota did not revile him for it.

So he followed her into the shower, letting her set the temperature. "I warn you," she said, "I like my showers hot enough to sear flesh..."

Spock lifted his face to the spray. "It is perfect." And it was. In general, Vulcans preferred higher temperatures. He looked down at her and let his hands drift down her waist to settle on her hips. She was so small...he bumped his forehead to hers.

She swallowed. "We should really wash your back...." He touched her temple and felt her...

_Shame..._

"I think I hurt you...it looks really...bad..." she said in response. "It looks like an animal --"

He kissed her to make her stop talking. He wanted to say, "No, I love these marks you've made on me...I love that _you_ have marked me..." but the word love got caught in the maze of neural networks of his mind.

And hadn't he marked her? He took his lips off hers, turned her head with his free hand, and kissed the bite on the back of her neck, the one on her shoulder, and then the necklace around her clavicles. _"Mine,"_ he whispered softly in his native language. Wasn't that like saying "I love you"?

She shuddered, and through the link he felt--

_Arousal_...and _fatigue_...

It had been a long night.

"Okay," she said with a deep breath, "I get it...we're even. Turn around -- and put your arms up."

He did as she requested and felt her aim the warm spray of the shower on his back and her cool hands on his waist. He watched as green-tinged water rolled down the drain. And then she kissed his back between scratches, blocking the spray with her body.

"There are some spots that still aren't clean...I guess we can leave it," she said.

"No. Please use the soap," Spock replied.

The shower was filled with warm, wonderful steam as she applied the sponge and the lather with trembling hands. Hot water ran down his back and the burn of each scab sent a warm wave of heat that washed clear through to his core.

"I think you're all clean now," Nyota said.

Turning, Spock brought his hand back to her temple and his forehead back to hers. He wanted her...but she was tired...and so small...maybe something gentle would be better, something just for her.

He began to trail kisses from her lips down her chin to her neck and then down the plain of her chest to the valley of her breasts. He got caught in the hot spray of the shower; water rolled down his face, and trickled down his nose as he slowly dragged his hands down her back and lowered his body....

Someone coughed.

Cold rain water ran in a rivulet down Spock's nose. He opened his eyes. He was back in the forest of Epsilon 1235, drenched with rain, squatting with his back to a tree.

Spock couldn't meditate or sleep in this cold...so he'd been trying to fill himself with "warm thoughts," something his mother had told him to do on a snowy day on Earth a long time ago. She probably hadn't had these particular types of thoughts in mind...however...he tilted his head; it had been mildly effective.

Branches groaned in the wind above his head. Hearing a loud crack he looked up as a tan limb the size of a medium-sized tree was ripped off by the wind and hurtled through the air. On the forest floor it was relatively calm, but along with rain, red-colored leaves were constantly falling from the sky.

Epsilon 1235 was caught in a storm the colonists called the yearly typhoon...it had come early, and they were calling it a miracle. Spock didn't believe in miracles, but the storm had saved them. It kept the hover craft at bay...and the Klingons from setting fire to the trees to drive out survivors.

Before the typhoon had started the invading forces had landed in the colony's center, where most of the houses, businesses and administrative buildings were located. From Angel's comm they'd learned that pockets of resistance fought in the burnt out shells of buildings and sewers...but their numbers were dwindling.

Spock looked up at the sky. The rain was probably "hot"...radioactive...the colonists always took radiation treatments after the typhoons. If only it could be hot in temperature...

Shivering, he mentally adjusted his internal thermostat. At least he had the fuel to do so. One of the few good things about this situation was that almost every one of the colonists had emergency rations; many had sleeping bags, tents and other gear, too. Ensign Singh said it was because they were "freaked-out survivalists." Roland said it was because "when you live at the ass end of nowhere, help is days or weeks away. We prepare."

Spock and all his team had food rations for a week and some med supplies. It was standard to pack for emergencies on away missions. Even "safe" away missions...

"I keep imagining myself with my wife," said Singh from another tree, seemingly to no one in particular. "In bed...dry...I think it is working a little. I feel a little warmer."

Spock felt the sort of pleasant satisfaction he got when Nyota gave him an opening. "Or perhaps, Ensign Singh, you have hypothermia."

Singh's eyes got wide.

From another tree, Goldilocks, whose real name was Gadirocks, Spock had learned, let out a laugh. "I believe, Mr. Singh, that our dear Vulcan friend is making a joke. It is not cold enough for you to get hypothermia...for him and me, however..."

Singh blinked. "You...can joke...Lieutenant Commander?"

Spock raised an eyebrow. Goldilocks laughed again...and so did Ensign Singh this time. Spock wasn't sure what was possessing him...probably too little sleep and not enough meditation.

Spock and his team were not in "the cliffs" -- actually an opening to a narrow gorge with about 700 meters of open plain from the tree line. The narrowness of the gorge would protect them from hovering craft from above, the open plain would provide them with opportunities to engage invaders who tried to approach on foot, and the length of the gorge would provide ample opportunity for retreat.

The first night, they'd managed to move a few hundred civilians across to the cliffs, and then Spock's team, Roland, Angel, Goldilocks, his son Jedar, and some thirty combat-experienced colonists had spent the next day finding survivors...when darkness fell the second night they ferried these across the plain as well, and then came back to search for more before daylight had come.

They had been successful...they were approaching the evening of the second full day and were just waiting for night to fall to escort another few hundred civilians across the stretch of open land to the cliffs.

The storm was keeping the hover craft from landing and from coming too low to the ground, but they occasionally whizzed overhead and now and then would fire -- mostly seemingly randomly. Spock doubted their systems had the sensitivity to life forms that would be available on real military craft....but there had been a few close calls, and on an open plain they'd be mowed down easily.

So now they were taking turns resting as they waited for last glimmer of daylight to vanish. Spock didn't need as much rest as a human, and he'd skipped some of the breaks that had been offered him...but he wasn't stupid. He needed to slow down from time to time, too.

Singh brushed some rainwater off the khaki coat a colonist had given him. "These things aren't really waterproof," Singh complained. All of Spock's team had exchanged outer gear with some civilians who were now in the relative safety of the cliffs. It had been at the colonists' insistence; they didn't want the Starfleet team being seen in their reds and blues and shot.

"Personally, I find this garment far more satisfactory than the bull's-eye I had on before," Spock replied with another raised eyebrow.

Singh and Goldilocks both laughed this time. Spock definitely needed to get some sleep...or meditation...he normally didn't joke with strangers.

"Lieutenant Commander, Lieutenant Commander," huffed Ensign Giotto rounding a tree, "The colonists are plotting something...come quickly!"

x x x x x x x x x x x x

A/N:

Okay, some real Spock / Nyota love in there I think…and a continuation of "Once Bitten"

Probably no posts until Sunday or so…But I like this chapter and wanted to get it up…I like action, but I think the psychology of action is the most important part.

Thanks to everyone still reading! As always, I like to hear your thoughts…Notes and I do take them into consideration.


	14. Negotiations

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Nyota, Starfleet or Gaila...who could own Gaila?**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom

**Negotiations**

Nyota pressed her forehead to the cold wall of the shower as the scalding hot spray blasted her shoulders. It was 20:00 and she was exhausted and trying to relax, but her brain was in overdrive....

What she knew...

...It had been almost forty-four hours since the subspace array on Epsilon 1235 went down. Contact with Starfleet was intermittent but consistent -- every four hours during the day, offline at night. One operator, a John Doe...which if there could be a better name for an alias..._but_...he was officially listed as an engineer and had even been Starfleet's liaison a year before during another power outage...

...Pike's communication officer had been speaking to John Doe over the past two days. Pike hadn't spoken to Spock directly...

...The Farragut was in the shit, along with the rest of the Fleet. The Starfleet channels were encrypted and she didn't have security clearance to hear all that was being said, but she did hear members of various merchant guilds complaining about a potential blockade...she'd also heard distress calls from both independent Klingon and independent Federation vessels...

...She missed Spock.

She banged a fist against the shower wall.

She was tired of being separated from him...better to face death together than this. It was the twenty-third century and she was playing the role of the helpless female at home...

From the other room she heard a comm chime...and she _knew_ it wasn't her half-Vulcan. She didn't move.

"Ny." Nyota heard Gaila poke her head into the bathroom. "It's your mom, Ny. I think you should talk to her."

"Why, Gaila?" Nyota asked.

"Because something is really, really wrong. And you're not telling me; you better tell someone," Gaila responded.

And suddenly Nyota did want to talk to her mother. "Tell her I'll be right out."

Tying an over-sized robe she'd stolen from Spock around her waist, she went into the other room, sat down, and stared blankly at her mother's face. She studied the laugh lines she saw there, the gray hair at the temples...Her mother had always had gray hair as long as Nyota could remember. How much of it had she gotten while Nyota's father was in the Fleet?

"Ny, what's wrong?" her mother asked.

Nyota swallowed. She hadn't told her mother about Spock. She was afraid her father would find out...if he knew that she was involved while Spock was an instructor, a superior officer and her boss...her father was one for sticking to the rules. He hadn't said a kind word to Jabari in nearly ten years. To have that happen to her would be heart-breaking.

And her mother...well, they didn't always see eye-to-eye. Her mother was disappointed when she had joined Starfleet. She'd always wanted Nyota to join the Diplomatic Corps, for reasons of pride, Nyota expected. Her mother worked in the Corp for years, and it was socially higher up the ladder than a communications officer in Starfleet. Nyota wasn't sure how her mother would react to her being involved with Spock. Would she see it as just another flaw in her judgment? Another poor career decision?

But...she would understand being separated from the one she loved.

"Mama..." Nyota took a deep breath. "I'm...Spock and I have been...in a relationship for a while...and...."

"Well, I wondered when you were going to tell me," her mother said.

Nyota blinked. "How did you..."

"I'm your mother, Nyota." Her mother said it with finality, as though it explained everything.

Nyota looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you...I know you don't respect my decision to join Starfleet and getting involved with my --"

"Not respect your decision to join Starfleet, Nyota?"

Nyota looked up at the screen. "You always tell me you wished I would join the Diplomatic Corps..."

Her mother stared at her and then said sharply, "I _respect_ your decision to join Starfleet, Nyota...I'm just afraid you'll die before me."

Oh.

Nyota found her eyes were suddenly moist.She swallowed. It wasn't like she could tell her mother there was nothing to worry about.

She shook her head. "Even though I'm retired from the Diplomatic Corp, I still hear things...But what is wrong -- something with Spock?"

"He hasn't emailed or called me in almost forty-four hours now..."

"Honey," her mother tilted her head, "that is nothing. Sometimes I wouldn't hear from your father for a week on end..."

"It just _feels_ wrong..."

She told her mother everything from the time she'd lost contact with Epsilon 1235. Her mother pursed her lips.

"Has there been any communication from him or his team? They may be limiting subspace vid conferencing due to power issues. But email...."

"I don't know...I mean, I could ask his mother if she has received anything..." Nyota's mother raised an eyebrow. Nyota suddenly realized that Spock's mother had known about their relationship before her mother had...She licked her lips and charged ahead. "...and Professor Matsumura, maybe."

Suddenly Gaila spoke up. "Or I could just hack into Starfleet's email logs and see if _anyone_ in the away team has contacted..._anyone_."

Nyota turned around to face her roommate.

"You can do that, Gaila?" Nyota's mother asked.

"Well, not from here," Gaila said, staring hard at the two-D console on her lap.

"...without risking your Starfleet career?" asked Nyota, suddenly worried.

Gaila smiled at Nyota. "Actually, I've been working with Professor Toshi Matsumura...unfortunately, mostly remotely...on using quantum superposition and entanglement for crypto...Hey, women, don't give me those blank stares...Quantum entanglement isn't just about love..."

"Pardon?" Nyota's mother said.

"Quantum entanglement isn't just about...love?" asked Nyota. She had taken basic quantum physics, of course. Quantum entanglement was when quantum particles linked through space...separate, but always together. Such particles could not be described as single units, even when they were apart...they were always joined.

Nyota knew that entanglement could be used with quantum superposition -- even more difficult to understand, it had to do probabilities expressed as both positive and negative amplitudes instead of numbers...to crack encryption. Endless possibilities could be tried in endless combinations instantaneously on a quantum drive...She didn't really understand how it worked, just that it did...

...but what did entanglement have to do with love?

"You're the one talking about things with your telepathic boyfriend not _feeling_ right, Ny...I figured you'd know..." Gaila sighed. "Never mind, just poetic drivel from the year 2000.

"Yes, hacking Starfleet's email server is difficult -- it needs to be done from the quantum drive. No, I won't get in trouble...it's actually part of a project Toshi and I have been working on together..."

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Through the howling of the wind, Spock's ears caught the sound of human voices.

"...we need more weapons if we want to survive after the rain stops," Angel said.

"Agreed," said one of the colonists. Spock recognized the voice of one of five surviving members of Epsilon 1235's nearly decimated police force -- while their comrades had fought in the skies, this group of five managed to covertly carry some anti-hover craft guns to the cliffs.

The police officer continued. "The invaders still haven't figured out that old meeting hall is above the armory...it isn't particularly well-guarded...Good thing we installed that shielding in preparation for Starfleet's visit...."

His voice stopped as Spock, Singh, Giotto and Goldilocks came from through the trees. For a moment everyone looked at Spock.

Spock had no orders from Starfleet. Without orders he was left only with his duty to his officers, the surviving colonists, and logic. The armory's existence was concealed from Starfleet...but..

"We do need more weapons...if we want to survive even a day after the rain stops." Spock said, eying Roland, Angel, the police officer and a few of the other tired and soaked men and women.

The police officer nodded at him and then began to address the whole group. "They don't know it's an armory, almost certainly. They only have a few guards on the roof -- probably because it's the only building standing in about 2300 meters..." He looked at Spock now. "We wouldn't have to approach all the way above ground. The underground tunnel to the armory is intact up to about 500 meters from the building...so most of the way we could go underground, and sprint those last few hundred meters. At night...it is possible."

"Not with guards on the roof," someone said.

Angel looked at the ground and then looked up. "The church is a blown-out shell...but the church bell tower is still standing...there is a platform by the bell--you have to be told about it to know it's up there....Roland and I used to climb up there when we were kids."

Roland blinked. "Yes, and the tunnel goes right beneath...there wouldn't be a need to be in open air for more than a few steps..."

Angel nodded...then continued. "A sniper, a very good sniper, could take out the guards on the roof of the armory with a Navajo Tact and a silencer while...."

"Angel..." said Roland.

"She is right," said Goldilocks.

"Yes," said one of the colonists. "A team of twenty of our fastest and strongest could make a dash for the armory while the sniper provided cover."

"Our projectile weapons with silencers will actually work better than phasers in this situation," said another.

"No light to give us away..."

Roland was staring at Angel.

"You know I have to be that sniper," Angel said.

"You don't have to do this..." Roland said. "I have to go...my retinal scan will give instant access to the armory; everyone else who is authorized is dead or missing..."

"Roland..." Angel began.

Roland's voice was a whisper. "Baby, you're not the strongest, you're not the fastest..."

Angel smiled. "Yeah, well, I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman...but I am your best shot...I'll be back far enough...I'll have a head start."

A weak and feeble woman? She was quoting Queen Elizabeth's words before the battle against the Spanish Armada. Spock tilted his head in admiration.

"She is the best sniper," said one of the colonists, "and the strongest and fastest should be carrying the weapons..."

Roland dropped his head and water dropped from his rain-slicked face. When he raised his eyes they looked red. Shaking his head, he walked behind Angel and wrapped a hand around her drenched ponytail.

"Does anyone have scissors...or a sharp knife?" he barked.

Angel tried to turn her head, but Roland held her chin. "Angel...I've got to cut it. No Klingon is going to catch my woman by the hair."

The good of the many outweighed the good of the few. Humans didn't articulate these sentiments much...but in the end, that is often what they did. Spock watched as Roland began to cut off long strands of Angel's hair with a long hunting knife.

It was a dangerous mission -- and the sniper position would be especially precarious. Spock didn't naturally empathize, but this was close to home. Roland's motions were businesslike, but his eyes were red-rimmed...with tears perhaps? He was preparing to give his people the best sniper...who just happened to be his wife. He did the logical thing in an emotional way.

Spock's stomach did a dangerous flip and he shivered. Would he be able to do the same?

He clenched his jaw. This line of inquiry did nothing to help his current situation. It did not help his team or the colonists -- and it didn't help him fulfill his promise to Nyota. He would get back to her. Staring at the ground, he closed his eyes and willed himself into calm.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Nyota sent Amanda, Spock's mother, an email as soon as she got off the comm. She asked if Spock had contacted her in the last few days; she did not mention any of her concerns...what if she was just being paranoid?

She closed her comm and sighed over at her roommate.

"Relax, Ny," Gaila said, climbing into her bed. Gaila was wearing a pink pajama set: buttoned-up shirt and pants with little strawberries printed on them. It was hard to reconcile this vision of her with the computer genius nymphomaniac she was. "I'll be able to access the quantum drive tomorrow. We'll figure this all out."

"I'm probably just going crazy, Gaila..." Nyota said, falling into bed and pulling up her covers. She should try to sleep. Spock would tell her worrying did no good when you could do nothing.

"I don't know about that," said Gaila. "Maybe you're entangled with Spock..."

"What does that mean?" Ny asked, rolling over on her side to look at her roommate.

"I've done a lot of researching into quantum entanglement and superposition for cryptoanalysis..." Gaila said.

"Codebreaking..."

"Yes...Did you know the idea of quantum computing is about two-hundred years old here on Earth? It was just one of those things that got lost in the Great Mistake..."

"Lots of things got lost..." said Nyota.

"Or purposely hidden," said Gaila. "So, anyway, those early Terrans, they noticed a phenomena...couples that had been together for long periods of time knew when their partner was thinking about them. They proved it over and over again in experiments at reputable universities. They didn't know how to explain it, so they called it entanglement, like quantum entanglement...you know, two individual particles separated in space but always together. Some said it occurred in parent-child bonds as well..."

Gaila sighed. "Of course, I don't think it has to do with quanta at all...or maybe it does. Maybe sharing space, and food, and air and water--maybe you pick up pieces of each other -- each other's quantum particles...or something else we haven't discovered yet. But whatever, it's actually really sweet...probably something I will never experience."

"Gaila..."

"It's okay, Ny...close relationships like that aren't my style. But that doesn't mean I can't find them_ fascinating_." Gaila said the last word exactly like Spock would and lifted an eyebrow.

Nyota smiled and felt herself choking up at her roommate's attempts to make her laugh...and at the underlying sadness she was hearing in Gaila's voice.

"Anyway," Gaila continued, "I was thinking; you and Spock haven't been together all that long, but he is telepathic..."

"...maybe he jump-started our entanglement," Nyota murmured, "when he was rebooting my brain."

"Yes, I've been thinking about that since you told me about the banana slug he knocked out with just a touch," Gaila said.

Nyota thought back to the banana slug in Muir Woods. Spock's touch had literally shut down its nervous system...and then mysteriously the little creature had restarted. Before that moment, Nyota had thought the empathic link was pleasant and sexy...and with Spock, necessary.

It wasn't that he didn't say, "I love you"--it was that he couldn't. He said he believed he would be able to one day with practice...like stroke victims who learned to rewire their brains after losing the ability to speak...but for the most part, watching him try was too painful. She was much happier just letting him use the link...but seeing the slug die and come back had made her realize the link and the empathetic touch might be more profound than she imagined. It could have life-altering consequences.

"Gaila...thanks for hacking into Starfleet's email server for me..."

"Oh, that's nothing..." her roommate giggled. "You know, it's for Spock, too, and Spock is Toshi's friend...I bet Toshi might even come into the lab and work _with me_ for once. That man is sooo....sexy."

Nyota blinked. She loved Toshi, of course, but she didn't generally think of the short, slight little man as sexy.

"Mmmmmm...." hummed Gaila."Toshi's brainnnn....so hot...."

Nyota decided not to comment on the creepiness of that...or to mention that Toshi had a wife. Gaila probably already knew...and Gaila was very open to threesomes and foursomes and...

"I can't believe you and Spock didn't proposition him and his wife Yumi..."

Nyota decided it was best not to comment on this either. Instead, she whispered, "Gaila..."

"Yes?" Her roommate said in a voice that showed she was becoming drowsy.

"...thanks for not thinking I'm crazy," said Nyota.

"I wouldn't go that far...you're a monogamist..." said Gaila sleepily. "But you're not crazy for worrying about Spock. Try to get some sleep, though. Worrying won't help you right now. Sleep will."

Nyota's stomach flip flopped and she shivered. That sounded like something Spock would say. She was exhausted but she doubted she could sleep...and even as this thought was in her mind she felt calm unfurling in the pit of her stomach as stealthily as the San Francisco fog drifting across the bay. It didn't feel quite right...it didn't feel like her...and yet...

She felt herself falling over the edge of sleep...

**A/N:**

Thanks for eveyone still going out on a limb with us in this story. I know most of you are dedicated Spock/Nyota shippers who want them TOGETHER. But they are together in a way. And I'm trying to make this a relationship story (not just Spock/Nyota) with action...not the other way around…and I won't make this too long! I promise, and there is a reunion in sight!

Anyway, they are both growing up fast.

I think the effect of knowing just a wee bit too much is going to have a big impact on Nyota. Grumpy when she caught Kirk/Gaila making out in her room just after THE WHOLE KLINGON FLEET WAS DESTROYED?...Ummm...I can't imagine why. Maybe a wee bit stressed? I mean, if someone takes out your primary enemy...whose to say you're not next?

Oh...and here is Queen Elizabeth's speech...one of the most brilliant ever (tho Notes tells me it *might* have been made up after the Armada tried to invade). How could her men not be prepared to die with her/for her afterwards?

_My loving people, we have been persuaded by some, that are careful of our safety, to take heed how we commit ourselves to armed multitudes, for fear of treachery; but I assure you, I do not desire to live to distrust my faithful and loving people. Let tyrants fear; I have always so behaved myself that, under God, I have placed my chiefest strength and safeguard in the loyal hearts and good will of my subjects. And therefore I am come amongst you at this time, not as for my recreation or sport, but being resolved, in the midst and heat of the battle, to live or die amongst you all; to lay down, for my God, and for my kingdom, and for my people, my honor and my blood, even the dust. I know I have but the body of a weak and feeble woman; but I have the heart of a king, and of a king of England, too; and think foul scorn that Parma or Spain, or any prince of Europe, should dare to invade the borders of my realms: to which, rather than any dishonor should grow by me, I myself will take up arms; I myself will be your general, judge, and rewarder of every one of your virtues in the field. I know already, by your forwardness, that you have deserved rewards and crowns; and we do assure you, on the word of a prince, they shall be duly paid you. In the mean my lieutenant general shall be in my stead, than whom never prince commanded a more noble and worthy subject; not doubting by your obedience to my general, by your concord in the camp, and by your valor in the field, we shall shortly have a famous victory over the enemies of my God, of my kingdom, and of my people. _

**Elizabeth I, 1588 **


	15. The Halo

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Nyota, Cardassians, Starfleet, or Random Romulans**

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom.

**The Halo**

Nyota was dreaming about Spock again and there was no goddamn way she was waking up. Even if it was a weird not-sexy dream, he was still with here with her...and she could feel exactly what he was feeling.

She was sitting in a chair in a hair salon staring at Spock and herself in a mirror. Spock had just finished cutting her hair...with a hunting knife. He'd cut it down to just an inch and a half all the way around her head. It stood up in tight curls as it did when she didn't straighten it.

This was..._Necessary...Good.._.

"You see, Nyota, now you will be much safer." He leaned over her shoulder and stared into her eyes in the mirror. "No man will be able to grab your hair."

Nyota tried to joke with dream-Spock. "No man will want to grab my hair. I look like a hedgehog that met a lawn mower." Hunting knives didn't cut hair all that well.

But mirror-Spock did not hear her. He was happy. No...just _less sad_. She would be safe. No...just _safer._

x x x x x x x x x x

"All done," Roland said to Angel, the hunting knife still in his hand.

Opening her eyes, Angel found the Vulcan staring at her, his face its usual unreadable mask. As usual he held her gaze a little too long. In a human man she might have read something into it--but he was Vulcan, and it was probably just a cross-cultural misunderstanding.

Feeling like a bug under a microscope, she turned her attention to Hendricks, the police chief. He was reading off the list of colonists who would be going to the armory.

"...and," Hendricks said, "we'll also be joined by Lieutenant Commander Spock, Ensign Singh, and our own Goldilocks here..."

"Father," said Goldilock's son Jedar, "I am stronger and faster than a human, just as you are. I must come, too --"

Angel watched Goldilock's face become drawn.

"No, Jedar," Goldilocks said. "You don't have military experience..."

Suddenly an unexpected voice spoke up. "Why is that so important? This guy...Jedar...and I may not be experienced, but we're probably in better shape than half of you and --"

Angel scowled at the young man who had said these words. He wasn't even eighteen. He was a trouble maker...a few months ago he'd taken one of the police craft for a joyride...

"That's enough, Peter," said Hendricks. His attention turned to Jedar. "Your father is right. Strength and speed won't help us as much as skill. You and Peter here would be liabilities."

Jedar and Peter exchanged glances and then stared at the ground.

The colonists spent a half hour more divvying up supplies between those leading the survivors to the cliffs and those preparing to attack the armory.

Angel had Spock and Singh trade their phasers for projectile weapons with silencers -- no tell-tale lights or energy signatures. She showed them how to load and unload the pistols. As she was finishing up, she noticed the Vulcan staring at her again--or more specifically, at her hair. It probably was quite something to behold…and not in a good way. Wet, defying gravity, and uneven. It shouldn't, but his gaze made her nervous...

She ran her fingers self-consciously through her hair.

Roland came up behind her and caught her hand. "My Angel has a halo."

She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand. Roland would make something like this better that way...

Opening her eyes she found the Vulcan still staring at her, cold and emotionless.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Nyota stared at her ragged locks in the dream mirror...she made a face at herself.

Spock was still leaning over one shoulder; he didn't pay any attention to the face she made...no, he just didn't see it.

"A halo, Nyota," her Spock said. He dragged a hand through Nyota's hair...bent down and kissed her head. Longing--his longing for her--spilled into her.

"Spock...I'm right here," she said. But he didn't hear.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Roland kept his hand on Angel's arm. The passageway was slick from the rain that had seeped in, but Angel was sure-footed and did not need his help. He just wanted to be able to touch her.

Spock and Singh were at point just ahead of them, putting Spock's sensitive hearing to use. Goldilocks and Hendricks had the rear. Everyone else was in between. It could be worse. They were all combat veterans, at least...

They got to the tunnel beneath the church too quickly...it was almost time to let Angel go.

There was a ladder and above it a heavy metal trapdoor. "This is it," Roland said. The Vulcan nodded at him -- his face more unreadable than ever behind the night vision visor. Gracefully as a cat, Spock slunk up the ladder, heaved the trap door open too easily, and slipped into the night air, Ensign Singh at his heels.

Singh poked his head back into the tunnel. "All clear," he whispered.

Roland followed, then Angel.

As soon as she emerged from the tunnel, Angel had the grappling hook gun out. She fired it up into the blackness. There was a loud clunk as it hit the platform above. Roland pulled on it. "It will hold," he said.

How many times had they done this as kids -- for completely different purposes? Angel secured the grappling hook gun to her belt. She had the Navajo Tac, a stand to set it on, and ammunition strapped to her back. Another small pistol was strapped to her thigh.

Roland felt like his veins had turned to ice.

"Hey," Angel said, with a smile, "don't worry. If I get in trouble, I'll just ring the bell." She was joking, of course; there would be no help if she got into trouble. "I rang your bell up there plenty of --"

Roland grabbed her around the waist and kissed her.

When he let her go, she took a deep breath and said, "Don't worry; I'll be back."

He nodded. He pulled away...he wouldn't make this any harder...Looking down, he started as he heard the tiny motor in the grappling gun begin to churn. Lifting his eyes he saw his wife, his Angel, disappear into the darkness above.

He turned and saw Singh looking at the ground. Spock was staring at Roland silently, a perfect statue. Did this situation have any resonance with the alien at all? Or was the Vulcan just a cool, detached data bank?

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Nyota's dream changed. She was at the altar of a church of the Christian style. She was wearing a white dress. Spock kissed her on the lips and she smiled at him; his lips did not quirk in return.

Suddenly Nyota found herself being hoisted to the ceiling as though she were a prop in a bad play.

She looked to see her Spock below her unmoving...she felt his heart being wrenched from his abdomen.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

As soon as Angel got to the platform in the steeple, she began preparing her equipment with practiced hands. The methodical movements, so deeply ingrained, kept her hands from shaking. Testing and checking and rechecking kept her from worrying.

When she was satisfied, she peered through the Navaho's long-range scope across the burnt-out wasteland that used to be her hometown. The meeting hall above the armory stood alone among the rubble...

Her heart sank. Light spilled outward onto rain slick ruins...and inside the place was packed with Klingons...she blinked in disbelief.

"Dear Lord God," she whispered. "They're having a party."

She waited with bated breath until she saw Roland's head emerge from the tunnel. He turned in the direction of the steeple and then to the armory. For a few minutes he disappeared.

"Come on, baby, you know we gotta do this...we won't get a second chance..." she muttered.

Roland's head appeared again. He gave the signal. Angel took aim and began to fire.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Nyota was dreaming again. She was wearing a white dress with fairy wings...dancing like a ballerina up to an entrance where two Klingons were standing guard. She touched their foreheads and they fell over dead. She was not at all disturbed by this. She tilted her head.

Entering through the door, she found herself in a ballroom -- it was nearly empty save for four more Klingon guards. Nyota began spinning between them, touching their foreheads and watching them fall.

And then there was Spock. Suddenly the room was filled with Klingons, all of them wanting her lover's blood. But his eyes were on her. He took a deep breath, and Nyota felt him willing her to disappear.

And she realized she had to disappear. Right now he needed her to be an abstraction...right now he couldn't love or feel--he had to focus on surviving.

Shaking, she closed her eyes and willed her world to fade to black.

x x x x x x x x x x x

Taking a deep breath, Spock willed himself to become calm. He tried to focus on the drumbeat of the rain.

Now at the worst possible times, he was having an attack of...for lack of a better word, empathy. He identified too much with Roland and Angel. This was a rare and strange thing for him.

The last of the guards slumped over.

"Ah, you see," the Cardassian who insisted on being called Goldilocks said, "an angel watches over us."

Spock turned to Roland. He caught himself staring at the other man's blue gray eyes a moment too long. If their situations were reversed, would Spock be so calm, so composed?

Roland nodded at Goldilocks and Spock...the Cardassian smiled and tilted his head. "Shall we?"

Spock nodded and then he and Goldilocks sprinted off through the rubble, humans following more slowly behind. As his heart began to pound and lungs began to expand, he found his mind centering. He was in the moment. All higher thoughts, all feelings were fading away...

Spock went to one corner of the building, Goldilocks to the other...the humans would take the front door. Spock checked around the first corner. All clear. He turned to Goldilocks. The Cardassian nodded at him and vanished down the opposite side of the building.

Spock turned the corner and made his way to the back, crouching beneath windows, pistol in his hand. He heard voices speaking Cardassian and glanced quickly around the corner...there were five guards at the back entrance, two Cardassian and three Romulans. And one of their tug hover craft...he hadn't seen that from the front of the building. That must have been how they got here...the tug was easily big enough for twenty or so Klingons and their cargo.

One of the Cardassians was on a comm...if the comm remained open while he and Goldilocks dispatched his companions...

Suddenly he heard Goldilocks' voice speaking Cardassian. The words out of the Cardassian's mouth caused Spock's heart to stop.

_"Excuse me, Friend!"_

**A/N:**  
Because dreams are a bit crazy...  
Please let me know how the dream sequence worked for you! Reviews keep fan fiction writers going...


	16. The Fall

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, or Starfleet, Cardassians, Romulans or Klingons**

Special thanks to beta reader Notes from the Classroom

**The Fall**

What? Was Goldilocks the traitor some of the humans suspected?  
_  
"I hate to interrupt you," _Goldilocks continued in Cardassian, _"but I seem to have lost my comm...would you mind if I borrowed yours?"_

What was Goldilocks doing? Spock turned around the corner...and saw all five guards facing Goldilocks. Goldilocks was smiling; his pistol was holstered.

_"Hold on, I'll call you back..."_ the Cardassian on the comm said.

And suddenly Spock realized the brilliance and bravery of what Goldilocks had just done.

As soon as the comm snapped shut, Spock shot the guard, vaguely regretting the pistol didn't have a stun setting. And he kept shooting...the muffled sound of the pistol with its silencer just audible above the drumming of the rain...he saw two more go down. But two more escaped into the relative safety of the door alcove. Dimly he was aware of Goldilock's body pressed against the wall of the building.

Phaser fire whipped by his ear. Spock pulled back behind the corner and heard the light sound of a projectile weapon being shot. Goldilocks shouted, _"I got him! I got him! He's on the ground just there..."_

Then Spock heard the sounds of a muffled pistol once again...one...two shots in rapid succession.

"Mr. Spock, we'd best be getting inside now..."

Spock turned the corner to find Goldilocks dragging the remaining two guards out of the alcove. From the front of the building came sounds of Klingons shouting in rage.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

From her perch, Angel watched Spock and Goldilocks go behind the building. Then she saw Roland and the human team shoot out a window of the front room and begin to fire into the meeting hall. The lights on the inside of the building went dark.

They were shooting out the lights...it made perfect sense...most of the humans had night vision visors; they'd have an advantage over the Klingons in the dark.

Two moving shadows near the tunnel caught her eye. She swung the Navajo Tac around and peered through the long-range scope...a Cardassian and a human. She prepared to fire...and then stopped.

Oh, no, no, no....

She took a deep breath and watched as the two loped through the rubble to the back side of the meeting hall and armory.

x x x x x x x x x x x x

Spock and Goldilocks burst into the back entrance and found themselves in a small room with a fire place. An emergency light sat on the mantle -- Goldilocks immediately shot it out. A fire was roaring in the fireplace, but the room appeared to be empty of any sentient life forms. Spock nodded at Goldilocks as they crouched on opposite sides to a doorway leading down a short hall. From the sounds of howls, Spock guessed it led to the main room...

Spock heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming down the hall and suddenly a Klingon burst into view.

Goldilocks shot him first...but Spock got the next one...and the next.

There was a rhythm to it. Spock felt himself in a near-perfect meditative state, even with the taste of adrenaline in his mouth.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"This was, perhaps, not a good idea," Jedar said.

"Yeah," said Peter.

They were in the back...they hadn't wanted the older colonists to see them. From inside, Jedar could hear the sound of howls of rage from Klingons and human cries of pain. He could even hear some shouts in Cardassian...his father was in there...he swallowed.

Peter was staring at the tug hover in the back. "Hey, Cardy," he said, "if I hotwired that tug, do you think you could fly it?"

Jedar blinked. "I am fluent in Klingon and would probably be able to read the consoles and..."

"That sounds close enough to me," said Peter. "Come on..."

"What are you getting me into, Human?" Jedar muttered.

"Hey, this was your idea, Cardy," said Peter.

"I'm sorry, I was under the impression that this enterprise was mutually foolhardy," said Jedar.

Peter snorted a laugh and headed for the tug.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The shouts of rage in the front were diminishing, and no more invaders were rushing down the hallway. Goldilocks nodded at Spock and entered the hall; Spock followed him, popping an empty clip out of his pistol and beginning to reload. They walked into the main room to see human and Klingon bodies scattered everywhere. A large banquet table was toppled over at the center of the floor. A trap door was open next to it.

Ensign Singh and a few colonists wearing night vision visors stood guard over the trap door. Singh nodded at Spock. He held a Klingon phaser rifle in his hands.

From outside the armory came the sound of church bells. Goldilocks and all the guards except Singh turned their attention to the front door.

"Oh, shit..." said one of the guards.

It was Angel, Spock realized...she was trying to warn them of something...

"Spock! Behind you!" shouted Singh. Spock spun around and stepped back as a piece of long metal in the hands of a Klingon swung forward in a wide arc. He did not step back quite far enough. A flash of pain ran across his chest and then he saw phaser fire. The Klingon fell forward...Spock realized he'd been brandishing a fire poker.

Singh was at Spock's side an instant later. "Sir, sir, are you alright..."

Spock closed his eyes...it was a long flesh wound...ugly...but...

"I will be fine," he said.

From the trapdoor he heard Roland shouting. "I need hands down here now!"

Goldilocks jumped down the trapdoor and Spock followed into the darkness below, shouting to Singh, "Guard the back hallway, Ensign!"

Less than a minute later he and Goldilocks were emerging weighed down with weapons and running for the front door, the footsteps of humans following more slowly behind them.

As they hit the night air, Spock and Goldilocks stopped short...the lights of three tugs were twinkling in the distance...and approaching fast. From the side of the building came the whir of another tug engine. Faster than Spock or Goldilocks could move, it swung in front of them and then sputtered awkwardly to a stop.

Behind him he heard humans shouting. Spock and Goldilocks backed up quickly into the entrance...a door flap opened at the side ever so slightly.

Several pistols began firing at the tug door simultaneously, but the bullets only pinged harmlessly off the surface.

From within the craft came a muffled shout.

"Father, it's me. I'm sorry, I..."

"Hold your fire!" shouted Goldilocks. "It's my son!"

The bullets stopped and the tug craft side door opened. Jedar stood in the entrance. "I'm sorry I disobeyed you. I..."

"Out of the way, Jedar!" shouted Goldilocks, heading into the craft.

"Load the tug and go back for one more round!" shouted Roland, leaning against the frame of the armory door. "Goldilocks, man the gun on that thing!" Humans began streaming through the doorway. Spock ran to dump his weapons in the tug and then went back into the building for one more load...

Right in front of the trap door someone had left a crate of grenades. Spock picked it up. All around him humans began churning, some going down the trap door, some grabbing weapons from Klingons, others assisting the wounded.

"Hey, man!" said a voice from the floor. Spock looked to see a human sitting against the wall. "Could you hand me a couple of those?"

The human's legs were bloody...

"Give me two...that should be enough," the man said.

"You require assistance to the craft..." Spock said.

"I require grenades!"

Suddenly Hendricks stopped next to Spock. "McCormick...you don't have to..."

"Shut up, Hendricks...someone has to blow this place so no one gets the rest of our weapons stash! And I'm no use to you with my legs...Give. Me. The. Fucking. Grenades!"

"You crazy son-of-a-bitch..." Hendricks reached into Spock's crate and pulled out four grenades. "Get into the tug, Spock! Now!"

"Yeah, I love you too," McCormick said.

From the front of the building came the sound of heavy laser fire. The armory shook and bits of plaster fell from the ceiling. Everyone stopped searching for more weapons and sprinted for the door.

Hoisting the crate over his shoulder, Spock ran for the tug, Hendricks at his heels. The tug's door closed almost immediately behind them.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

As soon as Angel saw the three tug craft approaching, she had begun ringing the church bells. She hadn't stopped until she saw Spock and Goldilocks run out of the armory. Then she saw the tug approaching and everyone getting in...

She didn't have time to think about that; the sound of voices had begun below her.

Now she was firing at Klingons below her in the darkness. She was a good shot, a great shot, but they kept coming.

A piece of the floor next to her was suddenly blown to bits.

Oh shit.

Fire was coming from the outside of the church at the steeple as well, ineffectual but...

Another piece of the floor blasted away. Angel moved towards the wall of the steeple, but she couldn't aim below now...

Two grappling hooks came up in unison. She fired at one; it dropped. Another took its place.

From behind her she heard the roar of a tug...

She shot again at a grappling hook...another came up. She heard the whir of tiny motors below. Fuck.

The tug's roar was overwhelming...it couldn't be more than 6 meters away now, but she would have no hope against it...she didn't even turn to look but prepared for the invaders in the steeple.

"Angel!"

Roland?

She heard another grappling hook...this one from behind her head. She did turn this time...and saw Roland leaning in the frame of the tug door, pistol in hand...the grappling wire connected to something in the tug.

She grabbed the grappling hook on the wall next to her, released it, clutched the line and swung out into empty air...she pulled herself, got the hook beneath one foot and felt herself hoisted towards the tug.

In the steeple she saw a Klingon face. She fired with her pistol, one hand holding the line...the tug began to move...

More faces appeared in the steeple and Angel kept firing.

Somewhere a human woman was screaming in rage.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The smell of iron-based blood was strong in Spock's nostrils. Many must be wounded... Spock flexed his fingers on the controls of the gun.

The tug shook...but not with the onslaught of outside fire...they were running out of power. They'd managed to shoot, lose, or destroy their three followers -- thanks to Goldilocks' knowledge of the Epsilon 1235 landscape and his skill at the helm. Spock marveled at how adeptly he had flown the craft. The man must have flown vessels of this sort before.

But more enemy craft would come soon...

"The rain has let up...I can land this thing in that clearing in the trees," Goldilocks said. "We won't make it to the cliffs..."

"Do it," said Roland from the navigator's seat. Angel was at the gun nearest him. The woman was an incredible shot. She'd taken out one of the tugs. Hendricks had taken out another from one of the guns at the back.

The tug's engines whirred in the landing cycle...

Before they were even to the ground, Roland shouted from his seat, "Everyone begin unloading! Go to the trees...Two incoming!"

Spock looked through his gun scope...they were still out of range...he'd man the gun until everyone was out.

"Goldilocks, go! Angel, Spock, you, too..."

Goldilocks got up from his controls with a nod at Roland.

Angel did not move. "They're almost in range!" she shouted.

Spock looked at his scope...they were indeed...He began shooting as the last of the colonists exited the tug.

"Roland! Draw their fire!" Angel screamed.

But Roland was already doing it. He accelerated up and quickly from the clearing, not even closing the hatch. The tug shook with incoming fire, but the shielding held.

Spock and Angel fired simultaneously on one of the incoming ships and it burst into flames.

"We're losing power too fast! Diverting all power to engines..."

"We've got to get that other ship!" screamed Angel.

Roland brought the tug low to earth, taking evasive maneuvers to dodge incoming fire.

With no power left in the gun, Spock turned his attention to Roland and for the first time noticed a dark red stain on the front of the man's jacket. He was leaning too heavily on the console...though his hands darted as light as birds.

When had he been injured? Spock didn't even know.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Angel, Spock, prepare to jump!" Roland screamed. He knew she wouldn't listen but maybe the Vulcan...

"What?!" screamed Angel.

The ship was running out of power, the other tug had to be taken down, and Roland knew he didn't have much time left. He knew what he had to do and knew Angel would never allow him to do it alone. He hoped she would forgive him.

"Spock, get her out of here!" Roland shouted.

Spock did not answer but the Vulcan suddenly sucked in a long breath with a hiss...

What? Surely the Vulcan could see the logic of the situation. God damn, the Vulcan couldn't get emotional on him _now._

Lights on the console that were already blinking started to blink more incessantly. There was a bluff up ahead through a clearing in the trees. Roland aimed for it.

Somewhere far off in the distance he heard Spock say, "I will not fail you."

Angel was jumping out of her seat and coming towards him in slow motion. As the tug rocked in evasive maneuvers she grabbed hold of his chair to steady herself.

"Roland..."

Spock was jumping to his feet.

"Angel, I love you baby...you've gotta get out of here..." Did he say that, or think that? He wasn't looking at her, couldn't look at her...he was just trying to keep the tug from being blown apart.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"I love you, baby..." she heard Roland say over the wind coming in the hatch and the sound of the engines.

He was leaning too far forward on the console. When he pulled her into the tug he had said the wound wasn't all that bad...

Suddenly arms like a vise grabbed her from behind and pulled her from where she held onto Roland's chair. She heard herself screaming, felt herself kicking, trying to break free...then the tug was dropping low. The arm around her waist tightened and dragged her towards the open hatch.

"No! No! No! No!" She heard her voice but didn't feel herself forming the words.

The tug slowed but did not stop. Roland spun around in the chair, looking at her for the first time since he took the controls from Goldilocks.

"Now!" he screamed, his eyes on hers.

Angel felt herself pulled backwards and falling into the air.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

They were several meters off the ground; it would have been nothing for a Vulcan without the extra weight...and Angel, the extra weight, was kicking and screaming. Still, Spock managed to bring his free hand up to shield Angel's head. He let his feet hit first and allowed his knees to bend and his body to drop and roll down the bluff. Twisting his body, he hit the ground, Angel on top, all the wind knocked out of him.

He was dimly aware of the tug turning around in a wide arc and accelerating in the direction of the vessel that had just been pursuing them.

And then all he knew was the whip of plants against his and Angel's bodies as they rolled entangled down the hillside.

A heartbeat after he stopped rolling, Spock heard the sound metal impacting metal and a loud explosion ripping through the night. Then there was silence...Roland had been successful. His respect for the man had long ago bloomed into something stronger...admiration? No, "admiration" was not strong enough...maybe there wasn't an appropriate word.

...and now Roland's wife was lying on top of him, wet and cold from the rain and muddy from their roll down the hill. Spock swallowed. He lifted his hands from her waist and her hair.

"Oh, Roland," Angel said, raising her head and then dropping it heavily back to Spock's chest.

Spock had no idea what the protocol for this situation was. His hands hung uselessly in the air.

And then Angel was up on her knees, her fists raining down on Spock's chest and face, an incoherent scream on her lips.

Spock was too startled at first to do anything. Was this grieving? Was she angry? Both?

He'd seen her disappear up into the blackness of the church steeple prepared to sacrifice her life for her people. Spock wasn't naturally empathetic, but he could make logical deductions.

Grabbing hold of Angel's wrists he whispered, "You would have done the same."

With a shudder she collapsed on his chest and sobbed.

Spock looked up to the sky. The rain was only a drizzle now. Only a few more hours until sunrise...undoubtedly the invaders would set fire to the forest soon.

"We must go," Spock whispered. Why was he whispering?

Angel nodded, her face still pressed in his chest, wrists still in his hands. "Yes," she said.

"Spock..." her voice shook.

He lifted his head a bit off the ground.

"...I'm sorry," Angel said, looking up at him for the first time.

Spock tilted his head. "No apology is necessary. I grieve with thee," he whispered, sitting up, pulling her up with him. For a moment they sat regarding one another, Angel's weight upon his legs, her eyes level with his. She was light and soft, like a human female was light and soft, though heavier than Nyota. Spock blinked...realized his hands still held her wrists.

Letting go he nodded. She nodded back and stood up without looking at him again.

**A/N:**  
So I confess, I like Lloyd Alexander because in his stories important characters actually die. I promise...Nyota big time in next chapter -- and of course she'll save the day (with help from her friends). A resolution to this crisis...very imminent. And Spock and Nyota will get to be together again pretty darn soon.

Reviews are how fanfic author's get paid...and a great way for you to tell me that you're pissed at me!


	17. Sympathy from the Devil Part 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Nyota, Starfleet the Academy or Gaila (who could own Gaila?)**

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom...

**Sympathy from the Devil**

Nyota was tumbling through the sky in the arms of a man she did not recognize. He had blonde hair and gray eyes and somehow she knew..._knew_...he was taking her away from Spock. She even knew he was sad about it. No, sad wasn't the word. Anguished? Heartbroken. He didn't want to have to do this...

Nyota battered her fists against his face. "Then let me go! Let me go! Let me go!"

...and then suddenly the stranger was Spock...she stopped her fists in mid-air.

He was still anguished.

They were still falling through space, but Nyota bent forward to kiss him.

An alarm sounded.

Nyota woke up with her face buried in her pillow, her alarm buzzing in her ear. Resisting the urge to hurl it through the nearest window, she got up out of bed. She looked over at Gaila's bed...she was already gone.

Nyota felt her eyes begin to sting a little bit at that. Gaila was not a morning person, but she had promised to get an early start in the quantum lab. She wanted to be in the Academy's email server by the time Nyota got off her shift in the sensory array lab at noon.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

In the sensory array lab there was no new news from Epsilon 1235 -- of course. So Nyota tuned into the Farragut. What she heard made her groan...she did a background check of the parties in question on her console and then groaned again.

"What is it?" Chang-He asked from his station.

Nyota didn't bother to answer; she put it on speaker.

_"They fired on us first, Pike!"_ hissed a voice.

Nyota turned to Chang-He. "That would be Captain John Blackburn, of the Federation-registered freighter the _Queen Anne's Revenge._"

Chung-He blinked. "That sounds like the name of a pirate ship..."

Nyota nodded and rolled her eyes.

Another voice shouted in Klingon, _"They invaded our airspace!"_

"That would be Captain Warlash of the Klingon clan ship _Gelim_'_ath," _Nyota said.

_"Just a friendly game of chicken, Pike," _said Blackburn.

"Jeez," said Chang-He, "if I had my family on my ship and someone tried to play chicken..."

"...yeah. I'd blow them out of the sky, too," said Nyota.

"Sucks when the bad guy is your own species," said Chang-He.

_"You will stand down now, Queen Anne. If you do not, I will be forced to open fire on you," _Pike snapped back.

_"You wouldn't dare!"_ shouted Blackburn.

Captain Pike shouted, _"Ensign, prepare photon torpedoes!" _

And then the line was closed.

"Well," said Chang He, "someone is having a very bad day."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Pike had slept only four-point-five hours in the past fifty-six hours. He'd had a very bad two and a half days dealing with captains much like Blackburn.

"If we aim the photon torpedoes to graze their shielding, that should take down their shields without destoying the ship," said Number One.

So they were essentially setting their valuable photon torpedoes to _stun_...Why not set their balls to neuter?

Pike was disgusted by Blackburn. Freighter his ass. The man was a pirate...and didn't do much to disguise it. The name of his boat was the _Queen Anne's Revenge,_ for God's sake...the name of Blackbeard's ship.

Blackburn was attacking clan ships ostensibly for the honor of humans everywhere, but more likely for the haul of Bajoran spice Warlash had aboard. On so little sleep and after two and a half days of frustration, Pike was really quite ready to blow the ship out of the sky...but...that would be against orders. Very bad for public relations on Terra when you blew up human ships...

"Make it so..." said Pike.

Two hours later the Farragut had the Queen Anne in tow and they were on their way to the nearest starbase at the edge of the neutral zone. Pike was catching up with his bridge staff in his ready room.

"Okay, Lieutenant Barber...how is our away team on Epsilon 1235 doing?" Pike asked his communications officer. Barber was in his late thirties. He'd never served under Pike until this mission...and he hadn't been Pike's and Number One's first choice after their previous communication officer retired.

"They're fine, sir. Although they are still working to repair the damage they caused to the power infrastructure..."

Pike shook his head. "I wouldn't think Spock or Lieutenant Carlisle would ever allow something to get out of hand like that."

Barber shrugged. "It could have been the colonists not accepting directions, sir. Anyway, Doe says..."

"Who is Doe?" asked Pike.

"The guy who's been communicating with us while our team..."

"Wait, you haven't been talking to Spock?" Pike asked incredulously.

"Doe checks out...and Spock's in the field..."

"So have them pipe his comm into the subspace transmitter for...."

Suddenly the ship rocked and the lights went dim for a moment.

Over Pike's comm came Number One's voice. "Captain, a Klingon Warbird just decloaked off the port bow. They're firing at the_ Queen Anne_...since our shields are currently stretched to protect the _Queen Anne_ as well..."

A warbird. And they had only two photon torpedoes left.

"I'm on my way, Number One."

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Pike was having a very, very bad day. Nyota had just finished sending notice of the Klingon vessel's approach to the Farragut to her superiors.

Now Nyota and Chang-He were both holding their breath as the Klingon warbird's captain's voice came over the speaker. _"Captain Pike, we are authorized by the Empire to destroy the Queen Anne's Revenge. It is recognized as a pirate ship and its most recent attempt to attack the clan-ship Gelim'ath demonstrates this!_

_"If you do not give up this vessel we will be authorized to destroy you as well,"_ the warbird captain finished.

Nyota noticed Pike sounded extremely weary when he answered. _"Really, Warbird Captain, there is nothing that I would like more than to hand over this ship to you. But my orders are to see that it gets to the next starbase..."_

_"Then this conversation is over!" _shouted the warbird captain.

There was the sound of shouts aboard the Farragut and the groan of metal. Then the connection went dead.

From behind Nyota and Chang-He came some sharp intakes of breath...Nyota and Chang-He both swung around simultaneously to see their relief. Nyota looked at her timepiece...it was nearly noon...she'd lost all track of time.

She grabbed her PADD and looked at Chang-He. His eyes met hers. "I think I may need a drink tonight," he said.

She nodded.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"What do you mean there have been emails received since the time Epsilon 1235's power went out?" Nyota was doing her best not to scream at Gaila and Toshi.

Gaila and Toshi had cracked the Starfleet email encryption, and Toshi had managed to get Nyota access to the quantum computing lab...a lot of work on his part. They were doing their best...but this news did not compute...

Toshi had his hands in his lap; he was tapping a foot uneasily. Gaila sucked her lips nervously and swallowed. "See, Ny, all of these emails came in about four hours after the power..."

"Let me see that," Nyota said, dimly aware that the words sounded as though they'd been spat out of her mouth.

She looked at the two-D console...and took a deep breath. What did her brother say about programmers? He called them "baby geniuses." Yes, the emails had arrived after the power went out but...

"When were these _sent_?" Nyota asked.

"Sent?" asked Gaila, blinking.

Remember, Nyota, communications is your specialty, not theirs...she took a deep breath and explained. "Sometimes on remote colonies and starships, emails and other subspace messages are saved locally on the subspace transmitter server and then sent together in bursts to conserve power. These messages may have been on the server in queue when the power went out and then were sent automatically when it came back on..."

"Ohhhh...._hai_..." said Toshi.

"Ahhhhhhhh...." said Gaila.

Then Gaila looked glumly down at the two-D console. "If we pull up that information, we'll be accessing the same data file that contains the contents of the email. We're not actually supposed do that. Our job is just to break into the server...we could really get in trouble..."

"Move aside, Cadet Fazen-Ria," Toshi said, addressing Gaila by her last name.

Gaila blinked.

"I have broken Starfleet rules before," he shrugged. "And I'm not an officer. We'll pretend you tried to stop me..."

Gaila scooted her chair away. Nyota was standing behind Toshi, focused on the screen, but she heard her roommate whisper in Orion,_ "Professor, you are a god." _

Nyota looked down to see Gaila leaning dangerously close to Toshi's neck, her tongue extended. Nyota sighed inwardly...Gaila found rebels and geniuses difficult to resist. Put the two together...

Reaching down, Nyota quickly and quietly pulled Gaila's head back by her hair.

Her roommate stared at her for a moment and then said in Orion,_ "Thanks."_

Nyota nodded and both of them focused on the screen. Toshi began accessing the emails one by one...all were personal, nothing foretelling that there had been a problem in the power infrastructure or that anything was wrong at all. And all had been composed before the power outage...

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Gaila and Nyota were sitting an hour and a half later in Toshi's lab waiting as he spoke to Starfleet brass in his office.

Toshi's lab door whooshed open and he stepped out. His shoulders were sloping noticeably.

"Admiral Barret says that they have been planning an investigation based on the information you provided yesterday Cadet Uhura..."

"_But..._" said Nyota, arching an eyebrow.

"But it will be at least twelve hours before they can even begin...and an investigation does not mean they will send a ship immediately." Toshi sighed, "Starfleet is stretched to the limit in the neutral zone...and as Admiral Barret has reminded me, there are thousands of small colonies like Epsilon 1235. Currently no fewer than twenty three are undergoing some sort of internal crisis. And those twenty three are actively appealing to Starfleet for aid...unlike Epsilon 1235..."

"What about your pirate brother, Jabari?" Gaila asked.

Nyota saw Toshi's head perk...she hoped he believed Gaila was joking about the pirate part.

Nyota shook her head. "I tried reaching him...I haven't heard from him in weeks...which isn't unusual."

She turned to Toshi. "Do you know anyone, Toshi..."

Toshi swallowed. "You really believe something is wrong, Cadet Uhura?"

"Yes," she responded...and Nyota _was_ sure.

"I do know someone, but they are..." Toshi shook his head. "I don't know if I like them meeting Spock...it could be..."

"Can they help, Toshi?" Nyota asked.

"Maybe," he said quietly.

Nyota was running out of patience. "Then I don't care if he, she, they or whoever is the devil himself, Toshi!"

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

It was Novasch, not his bondmate, T'Quilloc, who answered the comm. Toshi struggled not to gasp at the Vulcan Gray Guardsman's appearance. Although his face still showed his relative youth his hair was completely gray now. His eyes were filled with cataracts.

Toshi reminded himself that Novasch was not telepathic through subspace...although with Novasch, perhaps even that was not certain.

"Toshi, _t'hy'la_. It has been too long," Novasch said.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

A/N:  
If you want to know a little more about T'Quilloc and Novasch please check out my short fic "The Devil Likes Chocolate". (Will be pretty lighthearted...Tea Oli says first chapter is hilarious).

For more lighthearted fun you might like the last chapter of "Overflow" too. I moved it to M on rec of some readers...but it isn't particularly graphic.

Hope you all enjoyed this...Remember, reviews are how FanFic Authors get paid...and I just like hearing from you!

Happy Monday!


	18. Sympathy from the Devil Part 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Nyota, Starfleet the Academy or Gaila (who could own Gaila?)**

Special thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom.

**Sympathy from the Devil (part 2)**

"It has been too long," said Toshi. When was the last time he had seen Novasch? He and Yumi usually talked to T'Quilloc. Toshi wasn't certain, but he believed the Gray Guard did not like their own interfacing with non-Vulcans that frequently.

It had been so long since those days in the snow...

"One day we will drink hot chocolate together again," Novasch said -- and once more Toshi wondered if Novasch was telepathic even through subspace. Or maybe he was just nostalgic as Toshi was. What had they done to Novasch? What had Novasch seen?

"But is there a purpose for your call today?" asked Novasch.

"Ahhh...hai..." said Toshi. Leave it to a Vulcan to get to the point; this was one way Japanese and Vulcan cultures were not similar. Toshi would have been quite happy to talk about the weather for a few minutes.

Toshi bowed nervously. "Novasch, an associate of mine is on Epsilon 1235, and we have reason to believe that he may be in distress."

"Ah, Spock," said Novasch.

Toshi blinked in surprise.

"You and Yumi are concerned about him for some reason?" Novasch asked.

"Well, yes, my wife is concerned, of course. I have been working remotely on the Kobayashi Maru with Spock and haven't heard from him in a few days...but specifically, it is on the request of his former colleague Cadet Uhura that I am contacting you."

"Cadet Uhura?" Novasch's head tilted. "It is rumored that they are bond mates."

Toshi swallowed; of course, _he_ suspected that, but how did Novasch know...from the public wrist touch at the conference? It would be enough to set off Vulcan suspicions...but Novasch hadn't been there. He must have investigated Spock for some reason. "You know a lot about Spock, _th'y'la_."

"He is of interest to us," Novasch replied.

Toshi's blood went cold. He heard the sound of his own heart beat in his ears. In eighteen years Toshi and Yumi had never questioned Novasch or T'Quilloc on what they did for Vulcan Intelligence. They had become friends before all that. There were rumors about the Gray Guard, but Toshi and Yumi didn't really know what they did for certain...and the rumors they chose not to believe...because...because...Novasch and T'Quilloc were their friends...and maybe they didn't want to know.

But...It took Toshi a long time to find his voice. "Novasch...Spock is a friend."

Novasch's body stiffened and his unseeing eyes closed. "Toshi," Novasch said softly. "You need not worry. It is not that kind of interest."

In eighteen years this was as close as Novasch had ever come to confirming what he did. Toshi hoped he would never have to come any closer.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Spock sat in between Singh and Goldilocks and leaned against the cliff face. In front of them, passed out asleep with their backs to a rough, hastily-erected wall of stones were Jedar and Peter. Peter's head was on Jedar's shoulder, Jedar's head atop Peter's. Apparently, the two had been inseparable since the night before.

Cardassians and humans didn't normally associate...but as far as Spock could tell, the humans seemed to find this close association nothing but amusing. He'd heard a few snorts, chuckles and low laughs as other colonists had walked by.

A dry wind was blowing; in the east the sky grew lighter.

"Spock," Goldilocks said, "do you play 3-D chess?"

Singh let out a low breath. "Does the Lieutenant Commander play chess?" Singh banged the butt of his newly acquired Klingon rifle against the stones. "His marathon matches with Captain Pike and our first mate Number One are legendary."

Overhead came the sound of Klingon tugs racing into the atmosphere and heading towards the forest. There was little doubt what would happen next...

"Spock, will you do me the honor of playing a game with me..." Goldilocks said, "if by some remote possibility we get out of this alive? I used to be quite good..."

Goldilock's timing of this particular conversation was...odd. Nonetheless...

"I will play you," Spock said picking up a pair of binoculars.

"Excellent," said Goldilocks. "It never hurts to have something to look forward to during these things."

Spock wondered how many of "these things" Goldilocks had participated in.

Through the binoculars Spock watched as the forest was set ablaze...

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Evacuate the_ Queen Anne _now!" Pike shouted striding onto the bridge. "Security detail to the transporter room immediately. I want all of those sailors taken directly to the brig."

"Yes, sir!" someone shouted.

The Farragut rocked as more photon torpedoes hit the Queen Anne's hull.

"Sir, we're rapidly losing power," came the voice of Lieutenant Commander Chytla from engineering. "We cannot continue to protect the Farragut and the Queen Anne."

"Tell me something I don't know!" shouted Pike.

"Sir, if we return fire we may be able to buy time," Number One said from his side.

And be left defenseless in the event their power was depleted to the point where warp became impossible -- they had only two torpedoes left.

Pike was facing death and he had never felt so pissed off--pissed that duty prevented him from allowing the Klingon vessel from blowing the Queen Anne and all of her unsavory crew out of the sky. They deserved it...assuredly.

"Make it so, Number One," he managed through gritted teeth.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Nyota had been furious when Toshi had entered the office to talk to his "friend," or whatever. Toshi hadn't really explained. But as he came out, she felt her anger vanish. There was something so...beaten...in his demeanor.

"So..." Gaila said quietly, obviously seeing the same thing Nyota saw. "They won't help..."

Toshi looked up at Gaila. Then his eyes flickered up to Nyota's for only an instant. He looked down at the floor. "No, no...they will investigate. Spock presents...interesting strategic possibilities for Vulcan Intelligence and the Federation...Opportunities for information sharing."

The diminutive man slipped his hands in his pockets and then said, "I am sorry, Cadet Uhura."

Nyota tilted her head, confused. "But that is great news! I don't know what you're apologizing for, Toshi."

Toshi just stared at the floor and made his way to the door.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The invaders had not known that the majority of the colonists were in the narrow gorge that was "the cliffs." But as the forest caught fire, human survivors came rushing across the plain towards the relative sanctuary.

Hendricks and a team manning the anti-hover gun did their best to cover them from incoming fire, but still, it seemed to Spock as he watched ineffectually, that more were lost than made it.

There were no strikes from the orbiting ships, at least; that had been Spock's greatest concern. It was possible that they'd used up all of their missiles when they destroyed the main city. These were freighters after all, not warships. Their armaments would be haphazard at best.

A few hover craft attempted to blast into the narrow opening of the gorge but only did minimal damage.

Eventually the wave of colonists rushing across the plain stopped.

"Now we see just how dedicated our visitors are to this little venture," Goldilocks said.

The hover craft began to land at the entrance to the gorge, and streams of Klingons begin to exit.

"Ahhh..." said Goldilocks, "suicidally dedicated...They plan to invade the gorge. Most unfortunate."

Spock noticed no Cardassians among the invaders now. Only Klingons and...Romulans? Or they could be Mad Dogs, he supposed...

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The Farragut shook and groaned...Captain Pike did not need to see the view screen to know what had happened.

"Sir, the _Queen Anne_ has been destroyed," said his helmsman.

Thank god for small favors. "Prepare to go to warp..."

"We don't have enough power. Taking evasive maneuvers."

Pike was on the comm immediately. "Engineering, what can you give me? We have no more photon torpedoes and we have to get out of here now!"

"We're working on it sir. Shielding the _Queen Anne_ drained a lot of our power; then the explosion as it was destroyed..."

"Now, Lieutenant Commander!" Pike said.

"Captain," said Lieutenant Barber, "the Warbird is hailing us."

"On screen," said Pike. Anything to buy time...

"Federation Captain," spat the Klingon, "you have beamed crew members of the Queen Anne aboard your ship. If you hand them to us, we will let you go."

Pike stood up. "You know I can't allow that."

"I commend your dedication to your duty, Captain. It is an honor to destroy you," the Klingon Captain hissed.

It was one of the greatest compliments a Klingon could give. Pike was not in the mood to feel flattered.

"Incoming!" someone shouted. Pike braced himself.

The ship rocked wildly and Number One hit his chair. "Captain, we have one more missile..." she whispered.

Red lights were flashing everywhere in Pike's vision. "What are you --"

"The spent nuclear power capsule on the shuttle. If we deactivate Spock's containment field and I fly the shuttle into the Warbird..."

Pike met her eyes. "I'll call someone from engineering to meet you there...we'll beam you out just before impact."

If they could...

"I'm on it, sir," Number One said, jumping up and heading on her long legs to the turbolift.

Pike was on the comm again. "Engineering...come in!"

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

The human colonists were well-fortified by the gorge, and there were more of them. But their weapons were inferior...and they had less of them. The Klingons were trying to move a hover craft far enough forward at the bottom of the gorge that they would be able to use its heavy gun in the narrow space. With such a gun they'd be able to blast away the ledges and hideaways the humans fired from.

Spock had lost all sense of time. He just was. Aim. Fire. Repeat.

Rocks fell from the cliff wall behind him. Pieces of the hastily-built barrier on the ledge gave way around him. Humans fell. Klingons roared.

Aim. Fire. Repeat.

Hendricks and his team hit the first advancing hover and blew a hole in the roof...the hover's guns hit the ledge the anti-hover gun was stationed on. Spock could not see if Hendricks and his team had survived.

Aim. Fire. Repeat.

The hover couldn't go forward right now...it was blocked by the gorge's walls. But it was in deep enough to do damage. One of its guns swiveled towards the ledge where Spock was.

"Retreat!" someone shouted. Spock wasn't sure if it was him or someone else.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"Maximum power to forward shields and impulse engines; be prepared to veer starboard!" Pike shouted. He knew the Klingons were expecting a feint...but he doubted they expected what would come next.

The Klingon Captain didn't even bother to fire. He must have deduced Pike could not go to warp and didn't feel like wasting his photon torpedoes.

At the last moment, the Farragut veered.

"Shuttle away, Captain!" the helm cried.

"Engineering, lock onto McSpadden and Number One and prepare to beam out."

"The breach in the capsule's containment field is interfering with their energy signatures...they've done something to..."

"Twenty seconds to impact sir..."

"Klingon vessel is firing on them!"

The little shuttle didn't even rock...Pike's mouth opened...McSpadden must have altered the containment field to help defend the shuttle...but she'd have to drop it before...

"Fifteen seconds to impact..."

"Engineering, delay beam-out until my word!"

"Klingon vessel firing on the shuttle again, sir...but their shields are...holding...?" the helmsman said. "What the hell did they do?"

"Five seconds to impact..."

One more blast from the Klingon vessel hit the shuttle...

"Engineering, now!" shouted Pike.

On screen the little shuttle plowed into the Klingon's vessel's shields, and then the sky was alight with nuclear-fueled fire.

"Medical...meet me with two stretchers in the transporter room."

Pike didn't even wait to hear if Number One and McSpadden had been beamed aboard.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

They were deeper in the narrow gorge of the cliffs. Invaders fired from above and from recesses in the rocks below.

The colonists would hold a position for a while, and then heavier gunfire would begin to chip away at their ledges and crannies and they'd retreat again. They'd been at this for hours; it was late afternoon now.

The colonists really were just playing for time, and everyone knew that. The only thing that would save them was intervention from the Federation. Of course, that intervention should have come days ago...somehow the Federation was unaware that they were in trouble...

From behind him came the sound of transporter energy. Spock turned to face three Klingons. He fired. Phaser fire erupted from Goldilock's and Singh's guns, too...but around them they heard groans of humans who had not reacted quickly enough.

The ledge beneath them shook. "Retreat!" Spock shouted.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Spock was delivering a Vulcan nerve pinch to a Klingon. Goldilocks on his right, Singh on his left. Angel was with them now. The men she'd been fighting with were dead. She was aiming above, covering them from incoming fire.

Spock heard the sounds of fist meeting flesh. The sound of screams. The sounds of Klingon roars of rage. The sound of phasers everywhere.

And in front of him was another Klingon fist trying to connect with his face. He blocked it. A gun fired nearby and the Klingon collapsed. Spock glanced around and realized there were no more invaders on the ledge. Without a word he picked up a rifle and began firing at incoming fire from below.

He heard the sound of transporter energy and turned, prepared to fire, and then the world went silent.

Spock inhaled sharply. He heard the sound of his own breath. Then he heard the sounds of Goldilocks, Singh and Angel beside him, scrambling in the dirt; inhaling sharply as he had. The sounds were comforting. For a moment he had thought the silence meant he was dead.

"What the..." Singh muttered.

Above and around them was a glowing spherical forcefield of light ten meters in diameter. On the ledge next to them was a glowing blue cylinder -- the forcefield power source. Everywhere incoming fire connected with the forcefield, the phaser fire danced like lightning...but Spock could not hear anything outside of the sphere.

"Prepare to fire your weapons," Angel said.

_Do not fire,_ came a voice within Spock's head before the figures had materialized. _We are Vulcan._

Goldilocks was the only one who didn't put down his gun.

"They're Vulcan?" asked Angel.

She'd heard that? Most Vulcans were contact telepaths only, and of the true telepaths, very few were capable of projecting...but it was a Vulcan mind. Spock could feel it.

"Yes," Spock said.

"Put down your weapon, Goldilocks," Angel commanded. The Cardassian complied.

The two figures became solid...one was a woman. She wore the uniform of the Vulcan defense force. The other was male and wore only gray robes...it matched the color of his hair...and his eyes...

Spock didn't have the patience to feel fear. Beside him, Goldilocks gasped and whispered, "The Gray Guard..." Spock heard the Cardassian edge backwards...

"Spock, son of Sarek," said the woman, "I am Commander T'Quilloc of the Vulcan Defense Force, and this is Novasch," she said gesturing to the man. He was definitely a member of the Gray Guard -- and probably her bond-mate, Spock realized.

T'Quilloc looked hard at Spock. "Since you are a citizen of Vulcan I am authorized to remove you from this conflict."

Spock could calculate square roots in a heartbeat...but it took a moment for him to digest these words.

"What of these people here?" he asked. His words were clipped. He wanted to scream.

"Federation law and the Vulcan High Council do not allow us to interfere in external conflicts without express request of the Federation," T'Quilloc replied coolly.

Spock's eyes went to the scene unfolding outside the blue sphere. He watched a human tumble helplessly from the other side of the gorge.

"I am a member of Starfleet first, and then a citizen of Vulcan. Drop this forcefield now and allow me to return to my duty," Spock said, raising his gun. He heard a click from Singh's rifle. Angel was raising her firearm, as was Goldilocks.

In Spock's mind he felt the same sensation of pleasant satisfaction he felt when he told a successful joke. The Gray Guardsman found this..._funny..._

Spock fought back a snarl and didn't care if the Guardsman knew it.

"In that case," said T'Quilloc, "you leave us no choice..."

**A/N:**

More Novasch next chapter! I'm writing a little of his and Toshi's backstory in "The Devil Likes Chocolate"...it is pretty light hearted.

For those of you missing Nyota/Spock togetherness I also published a new short story called "Expectations" its in Descartes Drabbles -- and of course there is the just completed "Overflow"

Thanks for hanging out in my head again today -- I hope you all were entertained! As always, I love hearing from you -- and really enjoy getting reviews. If you liked this please let me know (and let me know if you didn't like it too).


	19. Relief

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Nyota, Pike, Number One, Starfleet or any random Vulcans, Cardassians or Romulans**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom

**Relief**

"...if you will not come with us willingly, we will be forced to defend you," T'Quilloc finished.

With an efficient movement, the Vulcan woman pulled out and opened a comm. "This is Commander T'Quilloc. Inform Starfleet and Vulcan High Command that we are engaging the invaders on Epsilon 1235, according to rights and responsibilities of planetary guards to protect citizens established in Federation Code 130,034-a. Deploy shuttles and begin beaming ground troops..."

Spock didn't hear the rest of what she said. His mind was filled with that sense of pleasant satisfaction, the Vulcan equivalent of humor; it rolled off the Gray Guardsman in waves and Spock could do nothing to block it.

And then the Gray Guardsman whispered in his mind. _Well done, Spock. Well done._

They were using him as an excuse to help the colonists. It was acceptable…but…he gritted his teeth to stave off his annoyance.

Beside him Goldilocks snorted. "Vulcans and their damnable sense of propriety."

The Gray Guardsman was silent. But Spock felt the humor again and felt his voice in his mind. _Precisely. _

"We need to drop this force field so we can return to battle, Sir!" Singh was saying. Was he talking to the Gray Guardsman or to Spock?

"We can do better than that," said T'Quilloc suddenly.

T'Quilloc snapped her comm shut, turned to the cylindrical generator at the center of the force field, and said in Vulcan, _"Formation Zeta 32-09."_

The force field shimmered and an opening emerged in it exactly at rifle height...they now had a nearly impenetrable bunker. Singh and Goldilocks didn't waste any time; they began to fire outwards at invaders.

Before Spock could turn to join the fray, the Gray Guardsman whispered in his mind again. _I look forward to getting to know you better, Spock, son of Sarek...and Lady Amanda. _

Spock did not respond. He'd been beyond fear for days now...and he had questions too…but now was not the time. Turning he lifted his rifle, and joined Singh and Goldilocks.

Angel was on her comm again. Spock could hear her shouting, "Prepare for Vulcan reinforcements!"

All through the gorge, similar force fields began to emerge...around the colonists and around teams of Vulcan troops.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Pike was walking alongside Number One's stretcher as she and McSpadden were transported to sick bay.

A medic was looking down at a tricorder and shouting, "They've been exposed to over 14 Gy of radiation...we need them on radiation therapies, stat!"

Over 14 Gray units of radiation? The survival rate for that was about 50/50. McSpadden had surrounded the ship in the nuclear capsule's containment field to protect them from incoming fire, but that had left them in the cloud of ionized radiation leaking from the device...

It was amazing that they had been able to beam out. McSpadden had contracted the containment field right before impact, which is when the ship's transporter beam had caught them...

Pike looked down at Number One. Except for the fact that she wasn't moving, you'd never realize how sick she was. Was going to be. Even with treatment her hair would probably start to fall out in a few days...she'd be very sick, unable to eat.

"I got 'em, boss," Number One said with a wide smile. "Thanks to nuclear capsules held together with duct tape and spit and human ingenuity. Heh."

Leave it to Number One to joke at a time like this. There was so much he wanted to say...

An ensign came up behind him. "Sir, you're wanted on the comm...it's Starfleet brass. Epsilon 1235 is under attack!"

Pike stopped in his tracks. From Number One's stretcher he heard, "I'm so glad Spock gets to have some fun, too!"

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Later that evening when Nyota came back from classes, she found two emails.

The first was from Chang-He.

_Uhura,_

_Heard from some other cadets in the Sensory Array Lab that Epsilon 1235 was attacked by a group of rogue Klingon freighters. The Vulcan Defense Force is there now...they invoked Federation Code 130,034-a to justify engagement...I think that means the Lieutenant Commander Spock is alive. No other news yet._

_Thought you should know._

_Chang-He_

She wasn't crazy...

She wasn't crazy...

Nyota took a deep breath. The truth was almost more frightening than finding out it had all been in her head.

Epsilon 1235 was under attack...and even if Spock was safe now, would he continue to be?

...and...

...they were bonded? If not bonded, entangled? What had Gaila said? "Quantum entanglement" was a phenomena observed among human couples that had been together for a long time. But Spock was telepathic. He'd been causing electrical impulses to fire in her brain and hands for months. Was it a shortcut to the kind of love only humans who had been partnered for years experienced?

She breathed deeply again...would Spock believe her? Did she believe herself? It wasn't like she could reach out right now and know exactly where he was...what he was feeling...Could she?

She closed her eyes and willed herself to think of Spock, pictured his half smile, tried to imagine the sensation of Vulcan love...and just felt exhausted.

She sighed...and shook her head. She turned to look at the next email. It was from Amanda Grayson, Spock's mother.

_Dear Nyota,_

_I haven't heard from Spock in the past couple of days either. He hasn't missed any scheduled calls, but I always worry -- I suppose because his ship is in the neutral zone. Or maybe just because I am his mother and it is our nature to worry. But I am assured by his father that he is still alive, even if the situation the Farragut finds itself in is precarious._

Nyota blinked. His mother hadn't even known that Spock had been stationed at Epsilon 1235. She dropped her head...because the first time Spock had gotten some free time he'd used it to call her for subspace vid sex instead of alerting his family to his location, apparently--which was kind of flattering and embarrassing at the same time.

She read on:

_Rest assured, if Spock were ever seriously injured, his father would know immediately...and perhaps I would as well. I do believe he is connected to me on some level, even though I'm not telepathic the way Vulcans are; at least, I tell myself this to keep from worrying._

Nyota tilted her head at this. Did Amanda feel entangled, too? Did she feel like she was crazy, too? Humans weren't supposed to be telepathic...

_If anything were to happen to Spock, we would let you know immediately. I know how important you are to him. I already consider you family._

_I look forward to meeting you someday._

_Amanda_

She was already considered family...Nyota blinked. She was touched...but...it brought to mind dark fears. He was still on Epsilon 1235, it was still under attack by Klingons, and even if he was safe now, it didn't mean he would remain safe. But now she had assurances that if things went really bad, she'd be able to attend his funeral, or visit him in the hospital...

Nyota hit the off button on her console and resisted the urge to throw it on the floor. She hated being so far away and feeling so helpless.

It wasn't until nearly two in the morning that Nyota got an email from Spock. She was awake, ostensibly studying. She couldn't sleep. She had a headache. The email was...short...

_My Nyota,_

_Please forgive me for missing our scheduled call. Epsilon 1235 fell under attack. I am alive and not seriously injured. My time slotted to this console is very short, but I will contact you again as soon as I am able._

_Thoughts of you helped keep me warm. Excuse me if that is incoherent. I must go._

_Ever -_

_Your Spock_

Suddenly, she felt her headache start to ease. It was only then that she realized she had been clenching her teeth...for hours. Nyota's body felt like a spring that had suddenly been uncoiled. Tears warm in her eyes, she let herself fall backwards onto her bed. And that was the last she remembered.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Twelve hours after the Vulcans had arrived, the colony of Epsilon 1235 was mostly secure. The freighters in orbit had been completely destroyed. However, before their destruction, they had begun beaming teams down to the surface.

There were still Klingons, Romulans, and presumably Cardassians, too, at the outskirts of the colony. Klingons, in particular, were resistant to radiation, able to survive months in the wilderness. Most likely they would wage a guerrilla war against the colony...they would have to be rounded up one by one.

The Vulcan Defense Force had set up a planetside base on Roland and Angel's homestead. Spock wasn't sure of all the details, but the Vulcan Defense force was staying until the situation was under control. Apparently this had been approved because firefights were erupting in the neutral zone.

Spock knew the Farragut had been in one of these firefights but had survived. Other than this he did not know any more...and he was too tired to care. He knew the details of his own team. Singh, Giotto and he were alive.

Angel was alive.

Goldilocks was alive.

..and somehow Peter and Jedar had survived, despite their lack of combat experience or training.

Despite all their training, Smith and Carlisle had died. Spock had contacted Starfleet to let them know. He believed in this situation he would also be required to write letters to their families. He had no idea what to say.

He was able to slip one personal email out to Nyota. It had been short...it had to be; there were too few consoles and too many people who needed to contact relatives off planet.

Spock was exhausted. He realized he'd been awake, and cold, and on his feet for three days straight. And so had the humans in his team.

With Singh and Giotto, Spock made his way back to Roland and Angel's house. It was still standing because the Klingons had also found it a useful place to bunk.

When Spock and his team entered, Angel was burning broken bits of furniture in the fireplace in the front room.

"Don't bother going upstairs," Angel said, not turning around as she tossed a chair leg into the flames. "There aren't any beds left up there."

"We will help you clean up," said Spock, looking around and seeing shattered bits of furniture everywhere.

Angel nodded but did not turn around. She closed a spark screen and then moved back a few feet so she was on the large carpet that covered most of the room. She sat down facing the fire.

Spock looked at his two tired men. "At ease," he said. "We are guarded by the Vulcan Defense Force outside...we do not need to set up a watch..."

Singh and Giotto nodded without saying anything. They merely put their bags down and seated themselves on the carpet.

Walking over to where Angel was, Spock sat down, too. After three days in the forest, he found the carpet amazingly soft...as comfortable as any mattress he'd ever slept on. And the fire was wonderfully warm. He could feel the room becoming warmer...he looked at the hearth around the fire...there were metal panels. Ah...the metal held the heat and kept all the warmth from escaping out the chimney.

His eyes glided to look out the window. It was late afternoon. T'Quilloc had told him she required his presence for a debriefing the next day...but maybe he could get it done tonight. He'd just sit for a moment and then go out and begin coordinating operations with the Vulcan Defense force...

That was the last thing Spock remembered thinking.

x x x x x xx x x x x

Spock opened his eyes to the darkness of early morning. Nyota was very near, and she was crying -- very quietly, lying on her side, back turned towards him, but he could hear her. And he could see the silhouette of her body shaking ever so slightly.

Why was she crying? They were safe now. He would make her feel better; he would link with her and project peace and calm...

Pulling his body forward so he was nearly spooned against her, he laid a hand gently on her temple.

"Shhhhh.....Nyota."

There was a scream--Angel's scream. She rolled quickly out from under his hand...stopped and stared at him, her body shaking.

Spock was frozen in place, disorientated by his unexpected contact with her unfamiliar mind and awash with her grief and despair. The emotions were so great he felt as though the earth had been ripped from beneath him.

From across the room Giotto yelled, "What's going on?"

Spock heard a phaser click.

An emergency lantern went on. Spock was still lying on his side, arm still outstretched...

"It's nothing," Angel said sitting up. "Just a nightmare. Sorry." She cast a quick, indecipherable look in Spock's direction, and then brought her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs.

...Nyota wrapped her arms around herself when she was in turmoil. Spock's arm dropped. He swallowed. He wanted to apologize but was too ashamed of what he'd done to say it aloud. His actions had been completely inappropriate and had caused additional distress...

"It's alright," said Singh, walking across the room, stepping over Spock's legs and putting the lantern down at Spock's feet.

Giotto coughed.

Singh kneeled down next to Angel. "I'm sorry," the ensign said softly.

"We're all sorry," said Giotto from across the room.

Angel leaned her head into Singh's chest and he wrapped an arm around her and dropped his chin to the top of her head.

"Thank you," Angel whispered.

Spock sat up and looked at Giotto. The ensign's eyes were trained on Singh and Angel, a phaser lowered in his hand.

Spock felt utterly and completely useless.

There was silence in the room for three minutes and forty-eight seconds.

Then Angel swallowed and took a long breath. "I stink," she said.

Was she joking, despite how she felt?

Singh laughed. "We all do..."

Evidently she was trying to make light of the situation...Spock swallowed.

It was true, Spock realized; they did stink. His exhaustion had blocked out the sensations from his sensitive Vulcan nose.

"Three days running around in a forest will do that to you," said Giotto.

Getting to his feet, Spock said, "I will go see if the plumbing is still functional." He was relieved to have something appropriate to say and something to do.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Walking across the lawn to the sensory array lab the next morning, Nyota felt more alive and better rested than she had in days. She wasn't precisely happy...but she felt more confident. As she got closer to the building she saw Chang-He moving slowly down the steps, staring at the ground.

"Hey," she said to get his attention. "You okay?"

Chang-He looked up. "Oh, yeah, I just covered the early morning shift..." He moved a hand up to rub his eyes.

Nyota knew right away there was something he wasn't telling her. For a moment her heart caught in her throat...had something happened on Epsilon 1235 he didn't want to tell her about?

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

Chang-He stared at her for a few seconds, and then took a deep breath and looked off into the distance. "The Sugihara went down..."

Nyota took a quick breath and stepped closer to him. His sister was on board that ship. "I'm so sorry," she said. She swallowed. Chang-He had helped her monitor Spock and the Farragut for so many months...

Chang-He nodded. "There were escape pods jettisoned...there is still hope..."

Nyota closed the space between them. When she wrapped her arms around his back, he paused only a second before embracing her back.

"There is still hope," she whispered.

Nyota felt Chang-He nod. "Yeah...would you..."

Pulling away, Nyota looked up at him. "I will monitor all frequencies from the Sughihara's last known coordinates and let you know if I hear _anything_."

Chang-He nodded. He didn't look her in the eye. "Thank you," he said softly.

**A/N:**

So I knew a guy who fought in East Timor. He said after tromping around in the jungle for a few days the first thing you did when you got back to base was fall to sleep...no matter how dirty or hungry you were.

Also, after Katrina the National Guard from surrounding states didn't go help because that would have been a violation of state sovereignty...so I think the Vulcan Defense Force and their GG friends would have looked for someway to establish their legitimacy before engaging. And this actually seemed like the quickest way to get down to the planet and help. Although I'm sure they have motives beyond just altruism.

So...that's my attempt at realism.

More Gray Guard goodness next chapter!

(Hey, he wouldn't be ALL bad if Toshi liked him...but he isn't all good either...)

Poor Spock...getting closer to understanding humans...but still only part of the way there...

Reviews are how fanfiction authors get paid...if you enjoyed...drop a line...


	20. Fallout

**Disclaimer: I don't own Spock, Nyota, Pike, Starfleet...**

Special Thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom

**Fallout**

It was very early in the morning. Spock was still tired. He hadn't had a chance to catch Angel alone and apologize, and he was frustrated by that.

...and of course he hadn't had the opportunity to meditate in days...but there was work to be done and now he stood among a group of three Vulcan officers on the plain outside Angel's house.

Around him Vulcans were constructing a headquarters buildings. In front of him Angel and a human were arguing, voices raised.

"....what the fuck, Angel? Are you too stupid to get how fucking important this is? If we don't get the sewage system fixed soon, those of us who haven't died from the Klingon invasion are going to die of godddamn cholera in the fucking twenty-third century!"

Spock blinked at the number of swears in the diatribe. Was that necessary?

"I get it, Smith...which is why we I have arranged with Spock and these Vulcan engineers to survey the damage done to the power infrastructure...the first thing we'll get running is the pump..."

The human crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. Spock hoped it wasn't to fuel some more swears...

"Fuck!" the human said.

...and was disappointed.

And then the man changed his tone so quickly Spock was startled. "I'm sorry, Angel...I'm just stressed."

Angel put a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay, we all are...but we'll get through this."

"Sorry for the language," the man muttered.

"Hey, it's okay; rolled off me like water off a duck's back."

Spock tilted his head. He actually knew what that idiom meant...how pleasantly satisfying.

"Now, can you get the Vulcans the schematics for the sewage system?" Angel asked.

"Yeah..." said the man.

It was at that instant that one of the Vulcan officers whispered to Spock, "Lieutenant Commander, would you please come with me?"

Puzzled, Spock followed the Vulcan.

As soon as they were out of earshot, the Vulcan turned to him and said, "Lieutenant Commander, I understand this human, Angel, has taken over the governor's duties...we must see that she is removed as soon as possible."

"Pardon?" asked Spock. Where had this come from?

"She is obviously insane. She is speaking gibberish about aquatic fowl and water rolling...it is most illogical and has nothing to do with the topic at hand," the Vulcan officer explained. "In point of fact, water molecules slide and --"

Spock blinked.

"It is an idiom. She was only saying that she is not insulted," Spock replied.

"Then why did she just not declare that?" the Vulcan asked.

Spock stared at the officer, feeling woefully unprepared to explain human behavior.

He took a shot in the dark...as a human would say. "I believe it was an attempt at humor..."

"I noticed none of the humans reacted with laughter," the officer replied, straight faced...of course.

Sometimes Spock just accepted particularly confusing behaviors as 'human' and moved on...but it was obvious that this officer wasn't going to let it rest. He sighed inwardly, and attempted to do his best.

Twenty-three minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, Spock was gritting his teeth but he had finally convinced the officer that Angel was in full command of her mental faculties...or at least that "she is no more logically compromised than other humans."

They walked back to where the other Vulcan officers, Angel, and the man she had called Smith were standing. Smith handed over a PADD and to one of the Vulcans and then attempted to shake the hand of the Vulcan he had given it to.

The Vulcan stared at the hand.

"You don't shake hands?" Smith asked.

"No," said the Vulcan officer.

"Why not?" asked Smith.

Suddenly Angel, Smith, and the faces of the three Vulcan officers all turned to Spock...and he was filled with dread...he was being asked to be a cultural interpreter.

"We are contact telepaths," Spock said. "We do not shake hands; it is a privacy issue."

Surely that would be enough?

Smith shrugged. "I have nothing to hide." He didn't lower his hand.

Spock blinked...that was unexpected, and he had no idea how to respond.

Angel spoke up. "Smith, I'm sure that sudden telepathic contact with an unfamiliar mind is disconcerting...possibly even uncomfortable." She said this looking directly at Spock.

Spock had a sudden rush of the feeling Nyota described as 'uh-oh.'

...but Smith did put down his hand.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"I was curious to meet you, Cadet Uhura. I heard you were the first person to notice that there might be something amiss on Epsilon 1235," said Commander Inoue, head of the sensory array lab. "Well done."

Nyota straightened. Amiss...that was one way to put it. Only 10,800 of a population of 60,000 had been confirmed alive.

"It's lucky," the Commander continued, "the Vulcan Defense Force just happened to be nearby...for some reason unknown to everyone. Starfleet didn't plan to investigate the situation for another twelve hours."

Just happened to be nearby? Toshi -- she'd have to find out exactly how--had asked them to investigate. Although they must have been in the neutral zone to have arrived so quickly...and that was odd. Why had they been so far from Vulcan? Maybe Spock would know.

"I alerted Lieutenant Cleary that something wasn't right days ago, Sir," said Nyota. "I found it odd that no Starfleet personnel were on the subspace channels. But she didn't seem to think it was important --"

"She alerted me as soon as you pointed out the situation, Cadet," said Commander Inoue sharply.

Nyota felt her eyes widen.

"I was the one who decided to put off the investigation for a few days," he said.

He was her commanding officer...he was her commanding officer...

After three days of little sleep and constant stress, she didn't care...

"A few days? There are 60,000 colonists on Epsilon 1235...or were." She was impressed by the neutrality in her tone as she said these words. She'd learned some things from Spock.

The Commander's voice dropped half an octave. "And there are 100,000 colonists on Theta 39, currently recovering from a flood, 80,000 on Lison 5 where a crack has developed in the biosphere, three million on Dilan 738 currently enveloped in a nasty cloud of ion radiation...Would you like me to go on?"

He said these words evenly, looking her directly in the eye the whole time. The weight of his words hit Nyota like a ton of bricks.

"Welcome to the world of hard choices, Cadet Uhura. Just be glad they aren't yours to make...yet."

Nyota looked down at the floor. "Excuse me, sir. I didn't know."

"Of course not. Dismissed."

Nyota returned to the sensory array lab shaken. Of course the Federation was immense...there were always going to be disasters, and sometimes no one was going to be able to help.

She turned to her console and focused on what she could control...tuning into the sector where the Sugihara was destroyed, she listened...keeping an ear on what was happening on Epsilon 1235, of course.

She didn't hear from Spock, only from Vulcans describing recovery operations, and reports that made her stomach clench. The invaders had gone to ground; they were waging a guerrilla war. Spock wasn't safe yet...

At the very end of her shift she did hear something...but not from Epsilon 1235.

_"This is the U.S.S. Valiant to Starfleet. We have located two escape pods from the U.S.S. Sugihara...confirmed forty three survivors...here are the names..."_

She listened as the names rolled off waiting...and then she heard it. _"...Soon-yi Kang..." _Nyota played it over three times, just to be sure. She let go of a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. As soon as her relief arrived, she bolted to the door and ran out of the secure area as fast as her legs could carry her. Pulling out her PADD, she hastily typed a message to Chang-He -- grinning ear to ear. She was beyond elated for her friend. She knew exactly what he was going through, knew how tightly he was wound right at that moment....

It was only after she pressed send that she saw a message from Spock. She laughed...her day had started badly but it was improving rapidly.

Her eyes skimmed over the email.

_My Nyota,_

_I am awaiting a shuttle to take me to the remains of the power station. I will be surveying the condition of the nuclear power capsule and power infrastructure today, and most likely will be assigned to lead repairs._

That didn't sound like it would be anywhere near the front lines. She smiled.

_I have other unofficial duties on Epsilon 1235 at the moment. Both Humans and Vulcans have been turning to me as a cultural interpreter. _

Oh no. She stiffled a laugh. That was just wrong...and funny...

_Nyota, at times you have told me that with my 'encyclopedic knowledge of languages and customs,' if I ever desired to do so, I could rival you as a communications officer. _

_Let me reassure you, Nyota, I will never be your rival. It would be a slight exaggeration to say that I find this duty worse than battling Klingons, but only a slight exaggeration._

She laughed aloud. It was just so...Spocky.

And he was alive, and well enough to joke, and not anywhere near the front lines. She sighed with relief.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

"You will put the gun down now," said Spock trying to contain his aggravation.

"You heard him!" shouted Singh phaser raised.

"Put the gun down!" Giotto said, raising his own weapon.

It was late morning. Spock, Singh, Giotto and Angel were standing between the ruins of two blown-out buildings near what used to be Epsilon 1235's power station. In front of them a group of five colonists had a bruised and bloody Klingon on his knees, gagged, hands tied behind his back.

One of the colonists had a phaser aimed at the back of the Klingon's head.

"Are you crazy, Spock?" the colonist said.

Spock was taken aback; how did he know his name?

"It is against Starfleet regulations to administer justice without trial, much lest administer an execution. You will put your gun down now," Spock replied keeping his voice even.

"Look around you!" the colonist continued. "They deserve no mercy!"

Spock thought of Roland, of his two officers, of the ruins all around him...

"It is not logical to execute this prisoner. He must be taken in and questioned so that others do not suffer the same fate as Epsilon 1235," Spock replied.

Was it logic that guided him? Or just the thought that a bullet to the head would be too quick...Spock wasn't sure.

A few of the colonists spat. Singh and Giotto moved closer with their phasers.

Angel's voice came from behind Spock. "Drop it, Stephen."

"What?" the colonist said. "What will we do with him? He's too dangerous..."

As if to emphasize this point, the Klingon began thrashing against his bonds. A few of the other colonists stepped forward and kicked the Klingon forward into the ground. They could have set their phasers to stun, Spock noted. He didn't say anything.

"Angel," the colonist called Stephen said, "you've lost as much as anyone here...how can you..."

Angel walked up next to Spock. He glanced sideways at her. Her jaw was clenched and thrust forward in that expression he recognized as determination. He knew from his brief link with her that she was suffering from grief...but she carried on...

"Just drop it, Stephen. We'll hand him over to the Vulcans; let them handle him."

Stephen looked hard at her, and then looked at Spock. "Alright...get them over here fast, though." He lowered his phaser.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

In the late afternoon Spock walked among the structures built by the Vulcan troops on Angel and Roland's homesteads. Starfleet might have used tents...Vulcans erected buildings. He had just finished delivering an assessment of Epsilon 1235's nuclear power capsule and infrastructure. The capsule was still intact -- it had survived the bombings of the invaders just as it was designed to. The surrounding infrastructure, however...

Now he was reporting to Commander T'Quilloc. He walked alone towards the center of the Vulcan compound. Vulcan troops and humans walked by him. The Vulcans did not acknowledge him; not that he expected them to. Surprisingly, many humans did. He got many nods and some slight smiles. Why did everyone seem to know him?

Hesitating for a moment in front of the door of the largest building in the compound, Spock was nearly slammed into by some humans exiting the structure. When they saw Spock they stopped short in the entrance, holding the door open...it was the group he'd confronted earlier about to execute the Klingon. Through the door came the sound of a Klingon screaming...in agony, or fear...or both.

Spock took a deep breath. He knew what was happening, had expected it...but...he had never heard a Klingon scream in anything other than rage. For some reason a Klingon screaming in pain was much more frightening.

The colonist called Stephen spit, then looked up at Spock. "So, I'm trying to decide if your way of dealing with the invaders is better or worse than shooting them in the back of the head." He looked down at the ground, then back up at Spock. "You know, I can't make up my mind about it."

The other humans stepped through the entranceway and let the door shut behind them. They moved in a circle around Spock.

Staring at the door Spock spoke to them, or maybe it was to himself. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few...or the one."

That was the standard justification for the treatment the captured invaders were receiving.

There were mutters from the humans. One of the older men in the group said softly, "Yeah...we heard what you did, Spock. Thank you for not leaving us."

Spock blinked. What were they talking about? Had they switched from the topic at hand? Humans did that...

"Yeah, thanks for that Spock," said Stephen. There were murmurs from the other men in the group.

They were thanking him for not leaving when the Vulcans offered him the chance. He had only done what he had sworn an oath to do when he joined Starfleet...And who had told them about that?

One of the colonists inclined his head towards the doorway. "You don't have to go in there alone, do you?"

"We will go with you if you want," said another.

"I will be not be harmed," Spock said.

The humans shot sideways glances between one another. "Not physically," one of the humans said.

Spock swallowed and looked at the ground. An uncomfortable moment passed. Then one of the humans said, "If you say so, Spock." He nodded at Spock, and then his companions. They walked around him and once again Spock found himself alone.

Taking a deep breath, he took the old fashioned door handle and pulled.

Entering the building, Spock found himself at the beginning of an aisle nearly thirty meters long lined on either side with metal beds...at the end of the aisle there were some nondescript doors with Vulcan security personnel in front of them. There was a cluster of three Gray Guards standing at the end of the aisle, but Spock did not see Novasch.

Raising his mental shields, Spock stepped down the aisle. To both sides of him lay the bodies of invaders on metal beds. He saw Klingons, a few Cardassians, and Romulans...this large room was a morgue.

There were Vulcans going between the bodies carefully analyzing each one. He saw pairs removing articles of clothing and itemizing each one. Other pairs were scanning bodies with tricorders. Still others were performing autoposies.

Vulcans were thorough.

There was a scream of pain that sounded Klingon from one of the doors at the end of the aisle. All the Vulcans ignored it.

Spock straightened his shoulders and walked in that direction.

As he approached the end of the aisle, all of the Gray Guardsmen looked up but said nothing. A Vulcan Defense Officer approached him. "Commander T'Quilloc is expecting you. Follow me."

Without looking to see if Spock was following him, the officer led him to a door at the end of the hallway and opened it. "You will wait here," the officer said. Spock straightened and entered the room. The officer closed the door behind him.

Spock looked around the room. There was a desk, and on one side were two chairs. Another chair sat against the opposite wall. He made his way over to the lone chair, sat down, and attempted to compose his mind. He had not expected to get this close to the Gray Guards' facilities. He took a slow breath in through his nose, then exhaled through his mouth.

And then from a vent in the room came a familiar voice speaking Klingon.

_"You will tell us what you know of the disappearing ships!" _

It was Novasch.

_"I will tell you nothing,"_ said a Klingon voice.

Spock took a deep breath and stared up at the vent. He didn't want to hear.

Surely they knew he could hear?

Of course they knew he could hear; they were Vulcans. They would not leave oversights like open vents unless...they wanted him to hear.

He knew what would come...If one didn't resist, mind melds weren't painful, but...

There was a long moan. And the Klingon began to talk.

It was all gibberish really. Black octopus ghost ships, electric weapons, earth crushers--the standard spacer legends.

At the end of it, he heard an unfamiliar Vulcan say, "Nothing new, Novash."

"No, nothing new," Novash responded, sounding out of breath. "Have any Romulans been captured alive yet?"

"None, sir."

Novash didn't need to speak to the Vulcan in the other room. He was speaking out loud for a purpose. Spock searched through his mind...and uncovered an answer. Pike had told him there were members of Starfleet and Vulcan Intelligence pushing for greater integration and information sharing between the two agencies. But Vulcan High Command resisted.

Perhaps Novash and T'Quilloc were among those seeking integration?

Novasch could just dump all the information he acquired into Spock's brain...but any Vulcan who questioned Novasch directly about his associations with Starfleet personnel would know enough to ask if he'd shared information verbally, physically or telepathically...

...but they would be highly unlikely to ask if information might have slipped through an open vent. And it was the type of omission a Gray Guardsman could easily hide, even from others of their own kind. If he needed to hide it. There were other Gray Guards here...

Spock felt a pleasant sense of satisfaction that wasn't his own...and the door knob to the room he was in turned.

**A/N:**

I hope you liked it! I tried to insert a little humor here and there…anyway, if you enjoyed, please let me know…or if you found something lacking or unclear. I do change chapters based on my readers' comments from time to time.


	21. Seeking Sympathy

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Spock, the Federation, Vulcans or Cardassians

Special thanks to Beta NotesfromtheClassroom.

**Seeking Sympathy**

The Vulcan officer who had led Spock earlier entered the room. Novasch, the Vulcan Gray Guard interrogator, followed him in...without his bond-mate T'Quilloc, undoubtedly using the officer's eyes to see. Swaying slightly as he walked, Novasch made his way to one of the chairs behind the desk and sat down.

Spock suddenly felt extremely fatigued, as though just lifting his lungs to breathe was an effort...

It took him a moment to realize this fatigue was not his own; it was Novasch's...or Novasch was trying to make him feel fatigued. Defensively, Spock raised his mental shields and began computing the value of_ pi,_ emptying his mind of emotion and thought. His breathing came easier.

Novasch lifted a hand in the guard's direction. "Leave us."

Bowing slightly, the guard left, shutting the door behind him.

Spock had been in the presence of Gray Guards before in the company of his parents. He had never been with one alone. To be left alone with a Gray Guardsman was not a position that would be envied in Vulcan society. The guards' telepathic abilities were too strong; they were respected, feared, and viewed with aversion.

A race that valued keeping their emotions contained did not look kindly on beings who could see too much too easily. On the other hand, it was logical to take advantage of the skills of the telepathically gifted…

Spock concentrated on his calculations and building a mental barrier between him and Novasch.

Focusing on a point just above Spock's shoulder, Novasch asked suddenly in their native tongue, _"Spock, have you had a chance to contact Toshi?"_

Spock abruptly lost track of the numbers running through his mind.

_"Pardon?" _asked Spock. There were many queries he had postulated Novasch might have for him...this was not one of them. And he hadn't thought of Toshi at all in the time he had associated with Novasch, so how did...

_"He is worried about you,"_ said Novasch.

Was this some sort of insidious method for getting Spock to drop his mental shields?

Novasch's head tilted._ "Perhaps he never spoke of our acquaintance."_

Spock suddenly felt a little sad...and realized he was picking up Novasch's projections again even with his shields raised. It was incredibly rude to project one's emotions on others. He let that thought be broadcast loud and clear to Novasch.

_"I apologize if it makes you uncomfortable,"_ Novasch said. _"After a long day I have difficulty containing myself."_

If Novasch felt any shame in this, he did not project it.

_"Toshi and Yumi are my and T'Quilloc's friends," _Novasch said._ "He contacted us because they were worried about you...as was your bond-mate..."_

Novasch couldn't be talking about his former official bond-mate, T'Pring. He had to be speaking about...Nyota. So, Novasch thought they were bonded...

_"...ah, wait...I do not sense a complete bond here...was there some sort of accident?" _Novasch asked.

Was that something Novasch picked up inside of Spock's mind, or was it something he sensed externally somehow? A lack of Nyota's presence in this space and time? Spock hadn't felt like his mind had been invaded. Nevertheless, he tried to think of the value of _pi._

_"If so, I can recommend someone to help you. Her name is T'Quill; it sounds like T'Quilloc, but it's not."_ Switching to Standard, Novasch said, "It seems there should be a pun in there." The Gray Guard tilted his head. "I appreciate human humor a great deal, but I have never been able to master it. Perhaps you have had better success, Spock, since you are half human?"

Spock suddenly felt the weight of expectation and...hopefulness on his shoulders. Novasch was projecting again...and he was hoping Spock would tell a joke?

Spock did not have to make his mind blank. It went blank of its own accord.

For forty-three seconds there was absolute silence in the room. And then Spock became annoyed, a feeling he recognized as genuinely his. He was a pawn, and apparently was supposed to be an entertaining one.

"It is difficult to be amusing on command," Spock said.

He was hit with a wave of pleasant satisfaction. The Gray Guardsman did find that funny, for some reason...

"Toshi said exactly the same thing once," said Novasch. And suddenly a mental image of a young Japanese couple flashed in Spock's mind...it took a moment for Spock to recognize Toshi and Yumi as young humans.

"What do Toshi and Yumi look like now?" asked Novasch. "I have seen T'Quilloc's visions of them, but it would be interesting to see someone else's. Would you please allow me to see?"

Apparently Spock's mental shields were not completely down...he was asking Spock to project...of course, with the ease with which Novasch himself was projecting, Spock had no doubt Novasch could blast through any mental barriers if he wanted to.

"Please?" Novasch asked again, and Spock could not help but feel some of the Guardsman's...desperation.

It was undignified. It occurred to Spock that this Guardsman might not be completely sane. It was rumored to go along with the territory, along with the gray hair and the cataracts -- all reactions to the peculiar stress of the job.

Then Novasch added, "And Patrick and Katie, too...I met them at the wedding..."

Spock hesitated. He had not thought once of Patrick or Katie. For the first time it occurred to him that maybe Novasch really was friends with Toshi and Yumi, or had been. He found the thought both mortifying and fascinating.

But...this was a Gray Guardsman...How?

If he opened his mind a little, perhaps he would see how this acquaintance had come to pass...but to open his mind a little might expose much more than he would ever care to show, which might be precisely the Guardsman's aim. Still, Novasch was Vulcan, and they weren't good at that sort of psyche tactic...were they?

_"It is no matter,"_ said Novasch, his head dropping. All projections of his emotions vanished.

Novasch said quietly, _"If you had trouble in your bonding to a human, you should seek out T'Quill; she genuinely appreciates human minds and she is as strong a telepath as I am...although she turned down the Guard. She is the only Vulcan healer I would allow to touch Toshi's or Yumi's minds...if the need ever arose."_

Spock stared at the Guardsman, confused. Spock felt...pity...This was inappropriate. He almost wanted to project images of Toshi and Yumi...perhaps he was being influenced? But no...he wasn't being telepathically influenced. He might not be able to successfully ward off an attempt by Novasch to invade his mind, but he would certainly know if Novasch tried, just as he could separate Novasch's feelings from his own.

_"T'Quilloc was delayed...we have one more case to see today. But she approaches now," _Novasch said.

There was a knock at the door and a Vulcan officer entered. He didn't say a word to Novasch, but the Gray Guardsman swayed to his feet and followed the officer out into the main room.

Through the door came Angel's voice. "You can't do this!"

"We have things that we need to discuss with him," said T'Quilloc evenly.

"He is a member of our community!" said Angel.

And then Spock heard Goldilocks' voice. "It is alright, my dear Angel. I came with them willingly."

Suddenly Spock knew who the next case was. His heart dropped even as he leapt to his feet. There had to be some mistake.

Goldilocks stood where the aisle of the morgue intersected the aisle on the perimeter of the interrogation rooms. Around him were four Vulcan officers, but Goldilocks' hands were unbound, his head high. Angel was in front of the Cardassian. She was facing T'Quilloc, and Novasch was rapidly approaching them.

"Fine. You ask him questions, T'Quilloc. But not one of them!" Angel pointed her finger at Novasch.

"The Gray Guard are needed. We will need to verify his testimony," the Vulcan woman responded.

Spock let his mind flood with the memories of Goldilocks' bravery, the Cardassian's laughter in the cold rain beneath the trees, of standing alongside one another in a battle where the odds were stacked against them...he let these thoughts spill over to Novasch and at the same time he said as he coolly walked towards them, "There has been some mistake."

T'Quilloc turned to face him. "There has been no mistake. We have evidence indicating that he was a former member of the Obsidian Order."

_Spock, _came Novasch's voice in his mind, _he fought with you to protect his own life and his own kin. Not out of altruism._

Spock was now only a meter from T'Quilloc, Novasch and Angel. He could not look at Goldilocks...he had to remain focused. "As a Cardassian he might have joined the invaders. It is probable that they might have granted him leniency..."

"The invaders were on a suicide mission, Spock. He surely calculated that his odds of survival were better with the colonists," T'Quilloc responded.

Spock's mind began to reel...A member of the Obsidian Order? Here? There was nothing of strategic significance…

For the first time he dared look up at Goldilocks. The Cardassian was surveying the bodies in the morgue. Was he wondering if he might be placed on one of those tables?

Goldilocks turned back to T'Quilloc. "My family is completely innocent. You will not question them."

Spock tilted his head…Goldilocks was not asserting his innocence, only that of his family. That was…troubling.

"We have no interest in anyone but yourself," said T'Quilloc.

Goldilocks smiled. "Then let us get this over with as soon as possible."

"No!" said Angel.

Spock stepped forward. "You do not have to do this. You have a right to a trial, to see all evidence--"

"Thank you, both of you." Goldilocks said, looking at Spock and Angel. "You have no idea how much I appreciate this gesture of friendship. But really, I must do this." He turned to T'Quilloc and Novasch. "Lead on."

A Vulcan officer came over to Spock. "You will return to the other room."

Another Vulcan approached Angel. He made no move to apprehend her, but it was clear he would not let her pass by.

Spock stood frozen in place.

Novasch's mind whispered to Spock, _If you value his contribution to this struggle, do not let this act of bravery be in vain, Spock._

Spock clenched his teeth. His anger rose and he did nothing to contain it. He was tired of being a pawn...

What came next from Novasch's mind could never be described as a whisper; it was a mental scream. _You think you are a pawn? _What followed were not words, but waves of anger, frustration, pent-up disgust and self-loathing that blasted through every mental shield Spock had erected as though they were paper screens.

Falling to his knees, Spock heard T'Quilloc whisper, in words, or maybe telepathically...his mind was too open to discern the difference. "Novasch."

The next thing he knew, he was being lifted under either arm and dragged back to the little room where he'd first been taken.

As soon as the door shut he felt a presence like a wind touch his mind...Novasch was confirming that Spock was awake.

And then through the vent he heard the questioning begin.

"Are you or are you not a member of the Obsidian Order?" asked T'Quilloc.

"You know the answer to that question," said Goldilocks. "I do not know why you bother."

"How long have you been inactive?" asked the Vulcan woman.

"Not so long that I cannot assure you that we have nothing to do with the little incident we find ourselves --"

So…it was true. Spock took a deep breath and searched his memories...of course. Goldilocks had gotten extensive training somewhere. He was as skilled at duplicity as he was at piloting _Klingon_ vessels.

But he was on Epsilon 1235's side...wasn't he?

"You will speak when spoken to and only answer the questions we ask," said T'Quilloc. "What do you know of the ships disappearing in the neutral zone."

Spock started...the ships, they were interested in the disappearing ships and not the destruction of Epsilon 1235?

Goldilocks gasped. "Is that really necessary?"

Spock couldn't see the scene, but he could guess what was happening. Goldilocks' mind was being invaded. Cardassian agents in the Obsidian Order were trained to resist mindmelds, although a telepath like Novasch could probably break those barriers easily.

"Answer the question," said T'Quilloc.

"Although my friends call me Goldilocks, my given name is Gadirocks Velem'ock'ar; my serial number is...." His words ended with a grunt.

Spock suddenly didn't care if Goldilocks was a member of the Order or not.

Stumbling to his feet, he went to the door and tried to turn the handle. It was locked, of course. He slammed into it with his body but the door did not budge -- the product of Vulcan engineering.

Through the vent came the sound of Goldilocks' low moaning.

And then came Novasch's voice, breathless and uneven in Vulcan. _"He knows nothing...they know nothing...it is not Cardassia..."_

There was the sound of a door opening and the sound of footsteps. Exactly twenty-three minutes and forty-seven seconds passed and then the doorknob to Spock's cell -- and that was what it was, a cell, Spock decided--twisted.

Stepping back a pace, Spock found himself face to face with T'Quilloc and Novasch as the door opened. Novasch was leaning on T'Quilloc, his upper body swaying. A pair of Vulcan guards flanked them.

"You may assist your companion, Gadirocks, if you wish, Spock. He is of no further use to us."

Spock stared at the two Vulcans. Goldilocks...Gadirocks...was a member of the Obsidian Order.

"You are letting him go?" Spock asked.

"Yes," said T'Quilloc.

Novasch's head nearly fell on T'Quilloc's shoulder as he whispered into Spock's mind, _He only wants to live quietly with his family. He really is no threat to anyone...and his friendship with these people here is genuine._

There was no logical reason for them to lie about this, was there?

_I am not lying, Spock. He is a good man._ T'Quilloc, Novasch and their guards moved back from the entrance of the door.

Spock's hesitation was gone. Nearly running, he left the room, Novasch's voice echoing in his mind. _It is a shame I couldn't get to know him well under different circumstances._

The Guardsman was truly mad...Spock heard a low moan and followed the sound through an open door in the cell next to his. Goldilocks was climbing unsteadily to his feet.

Spock was about to rush forward and help, and then he stopped, suddenly aware of who he was. He was a Vulcan...at least to Goldilocks.

"If you wish, I will assist you," Spock said.

Goldilocks turned his head. "I would appreciate that a great deal, Mr. Spock."

In their own way, the words were as powerful as when Nyota had told him never to feel ashamed for what he felt, or what he didn't.

He was forgiven for what he was.

Taking Goldilocks' wrist, careful not to touch any exposed skin, Spock put the Cardassian's arm over his shoulder and they slowly made their way past the assembled Vulcans, through the morgue, and out of the building.

As they stepped out into the blackness of Epsilon 1235's night, Novasch's mind whispered, _Goodbye...Live long and prosper. _The words were laced with regret.

Goldilocks sighed. "Inquisitors of every species go insane eventually. Well, now we can all report this event to our handlers...a lot has been learned by all three parties, I suppose --"

Handlers? All three parties? Vulcan, the Obsidian Order, and the Federation -- had Goldilocks guessed Spock's unintentional role in all of this? And what benefit would knowledge of this interview have to the Obsidian Order?

A great deal.

They would know just how powerful Vulcan telepaths could be. If they were interested in the disappearing ships, they would have reason to believe it wasn't the doing of the Federation or Vulcan...

Angel's voice came from the shadows. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, it wasn't so bad," said Goldilocks, hanging over Spock's shoulder. "I once met a group of Romulans who were far less agreeable."

Angel wrapped Goldilocks' other arm over her shoulders. "Spock, are you okay? I saw them drag you away..."

And once more Spock felt like he'd been forgiven.

**A/N:**

You know, Spock really needs to apologize to Angel…Hang in there Ms. L. Moon!

So is Novasch sufficiently crazy? I think I may love him. I promise to keep working on the "Devil Likes Chocolate"...they will have fun at the ski resort (What type of Vulcan likes snow? Really...)

Thanks for hanging out in my brain. I know there are so many OCs in here...and it drives a lot of people away.

If you were entertained, please review. It is the only way we fanfiction writers and our Betas get paid...


	22. Unwelcome Advances

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Spock, Nyota, Kirk or any Cardassians**

Thanks to Beta Notes from the Classroom

**Unwelcome Advances**

Spock landed the hover as Goldilocks and Angel sat in the two passenger seats. Angel was holding Goldilocks' hand and straightening his hair.

"There, you look presentable," she said.

"Thank you. If you don't mind, I'd prefer you not help me to the door." The Cardassian smiled. "It never does any good to upset the wife."

He turned his head to Spock. "Do I still have your word on that game of chess, my Vulcan friend?"

The Cardassian, after all he had been through, was thinking of chess? There was so much to admire in Goldilocks. What had Novasch, his interrogator, said? _It is a shame I couldn't get to know him well under different circumstances._

"Of course," Spock managed. The Cardassian's demeanor was far from Vulcan, but the way he shrugged off pain and hardship was as stoic as a Vulcan could ever hope to be.

"Excellent," said Goldilocks, pulling himself out of his seat and making his way to the hover door. "It is always good to have something to look forward to after these things."

Spock wondered how many of 'these things' Goldilocks had been through.

Watching from the hover with Angel, he saw the Cardassian make his way to the temporary Vulcan shelter Goldilocks was sharing with his family. There was a flash of warm light as the door opened, and then his wife was pulling him in and closing the door.

Angel had tears on her cheeks. "Will he be alright?"

Spock bent his head over the controls of the hover. "Yes. Vulcans do not strive to permanently harm those they bring into questioning."

"What precisely did they do to him?" she asked.

"A mind meld. He resisted," Spock responded.

"I think I've heard of them...a mind meld lets you read someone's mind, right?" Angel asked, massaging her temples while not looking at him.

"That is correct," said Spock -- he was suddenly aware that he was alone with Angel for the first time after he touched her temple and --

"They knocked you down across the room...I thought Vulcans were contact telepaths?" Angel said.

Spock could still feel the heat of Novasch's anger, and the tendrils of the Gray Guardsman's thoughts in his mind. "We do not just have the ability to read minds; we can also influence them, project thoughts...the Vulcans you saw dressed in gray robes are especially strong and do not need physical --"

Angel turned her head sharply. "You can influence? Were you trying to influence me last night?"

Spock wanted to apologize--had been meaning to all day long. He also wanted, quite illogically, to disappear into a wormhole. There were probably some perfect words to diffuse the situation. But Spock was tired. He had not meditated in four days.

The words that came out of his mouth were clipped. "I woke to your crying and mistook you for someone else. I was trying to influence her, not you. I was trying to calm her."

Angel stared at him. Her eyebrows drew together.

Spock took a breath and looked down. He was giving her excuses; his behavior had been illogical...he was being illogical. "I apologize. Establishing the mental link was inappropriate --"

"Spooning me was inappropriate," said Angel.

Spock blinked.

Angel lifted her hands and began to gesture...it was the sort of thing Nyota would do.

"Spooning is when --" she said.

Spock met Angel's eyes. "I am aware of the definition of the term."

Angel's eyes got slightly wider.

Spock closed his eyes for a moment. "As I stated earlier, I mistook you for someone else. I apologize for all of my actions."

"I almost thought you were coming on to me...after Roland..." Angel shook her head. "If I had had a phaser at the time --"

Spock tilted his head. Empathy was not his strong point, but he did remember his irritation at Nurse Chapel for touching his hands. If he compared his actions proportionally...

"Under the circumstances, harming my person would have been quite...understandable. I would not have pressed charges."

Angel stared at him. "I can't tell if you are joking or serious."

Spock felt as though he was not in full control of his mouth. The words slipped out before he could stop them. "I think both." He looked down at the controls on the console, momentarily enraptured by their flashing. He really needed to meditate.

"Vulcans spoon?" Angel asked.

"I have no idea," Spock said, still staring at the console in front of him. "I am half Vulcan and my bond-mate is human." He blinked at the bout of uncharacteristic forthrightness. Suddenly the memory of Nyota's cool body pressed against him was very vivid. Her familiar emotions rushing through his fingers, pressing his lips to her hair. How long until he saw her again? He closed his eyes. His scheduled leave was in three weeks, two days, fourteen hours, twenty-seven minutes...would it even occur now that the situation in the neutral zone was so tenuous?

"You're alright, Spock," Angel said.

He supposed alright was a matter of definition.

x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x x

Nyota was suddenly caught in a bone-crushing hug and lifted off the ground in the line of the Academy cafeteria. She didn't mind; she understood perfectly.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me know my sister is okay!" Chang-He said, dropping her down to the floor and releasing her. "Is your man okay?"

Nyota didn't know if it was a slip of the tongue on his part, but she didn't want to deny Spock being her man. She smiled...no grinned...ear to ear. "He's fine--joking about how being a cultural interpreter is worse than battling Klingons..."

"Communications--it isn't for everyone!" Chang-He said happily. Then he looked at her quizzically. "He can joke?"

Before Nyota could respond, a familiar voice came from behind her. She felt the smile on her face vanish.

"If you're giving out hugs, Uhura, I think I deserve one..."

"Don't even touch me, Kirk," Nyota said, not looking around.

"You guys know each other?" asked Chang-He.

Jim Kirk's hand suddenly was on Nyota's shoulder. Turning her head, Nyota stared at it in shock for a moment, before smiling tightly, picking it up by the index finger, and dropping it off her person in a manner befitting the distasteful object it was.

Jim seemed unconcerned. "Know her? I joined Starfleet for Catherine here."

Nyota rolled her eyes and looked at Chang-He. "That is not my real name."

"But I'm getting closer, aren't I?" asked Jim. He was standing by her side, face only a few inches from hers.

He was always trying to guess her first name. She turned her head and stared hard up at him. "You are..."

"Oh, come on, Uhura. Jim here is okay..." Chang-He said.

Jim smiled widely and raised an eyebrow.

Her eyes went to Chang-He. He wasn't looking at either of them. He was staring at the holo that normally played in the cafeteria.

"....and so," the announcer was saying, "...the reports of violence in the neutral zone are greatly exaggerated, as are the rumors of the violence on Epsilon 1235."

"Holy fuck..." said Chang-He.

Nyota stared at the holovid.

"Is something wrong?" asked Kirk. Nyota was only half aware of him.

On the holovid the announcer continued. "We go now to our live correspondent, Todd Rodriguez, at Starfleet headquarters..."

The scene on the holovid changed and there was the live correspondent standing in front of Starfleet headquarters between two crowds of protesters. On one side Nyota saw signs that said, "Peace in our time" and "No War." On the other side were signs that said, "Starfleet Open Your Eyes," and "Resist Klingon Aggression."

"As you can see," the correspondent said, "the public is divided..."

Someone flipped the channel and they were suddenly staring at a tennis match.

The expression on Kirk's face when she came back to earth startled Nyota. His gaze flickered back and forth between her, Chang-He, and the holo...and...he looked...almost thoughtful.

**A/N:**

Not much of a cliffie there...but it completes the thought. Foreshadowing Kirk's not being an ass anymore (I *like* Kirk, I know a lot of people don't. He is just so tragic. I've experienced poverty -- and when you get a chance to escape you don't know the rules and have to learn them all on your own...its tough and confusing without role models.)

How was Spock/Angel apology? It was kind of unSpocky in a very tired, I got blasted by the Gray Guard, brain is a little fuzzy, oh look at the pretty flashing lights, those could set me off in a meditative trance right quick kind of way.

But I think his allowing that, "yeah, if you killed me...that would be totally understandable" probably was the thing that made it all better...if someone came onto me after my husband had just died...

Nyota and Spock need to get back together! They will, they will, they will, they will! Setting it up next chapter...

Anyway, if you enjoyed, pls read and review...


	23. Behind Every Great Man

**Disclaimer: I don't own Nyota, Spock, Pike, Starfleet or the Federation.**

Special thanks to beta Notes from the Classroom

**Behind Every Great Man...**

Nyota was in a deep and dreamless sleep when her comm rang at 2 AM. She was instantly awake, dragging her comforter and comm into the bathroom she shared with Gaila, smiling through bleary eyes.

Pressing a button, Nyota found herself looking dazedly at static…and then there was Spock.

He was in what appeared to be an empty hover. He looked thin and there were circles under his eyes, but his shoulders were straight and his eyes were bright. From the angle of the screen she could see he was holding the subspace comm on his knees.

She laughed and let her forehead hit the screen.

He took a deep breath. "Nyota, you are well?" His lips were pulled in the faintest glimmer of a smile.

"I am much better now!" she said.

"I may not have much time, nor is my privacy secure, but I had the opportunity to use this Vulcan comm..."

There seemed to be a slight time lag. The comm was probably interfacing with the subspace array on the Vulcan ship.

"You're alive…" she said stroking his face on the screen.

"As I said before, it is only because of you and Toshi..."

For a moment his face went completely still and his ever-so-slight sort-of smile vanished. He looked directly at her.

Nyota decided to shrug it off – and get him out of his serious mood. "It was nothing," she said with a smile and a swat of her hand.

He still looked serious; she remembered their last brief call since the attack. She had barely been coherent she'd been so happy to see him...and so worried at the same time.

That call had turned into a data dump - where was he? What was he doing? Was he in any danger? There were so many serious conversations to have: what happened and was happening on Epsilon 1235 and in the neutral zone, quantum entanglement...

Not right now. There time could be short.

She decided to tease him…she'd been meaning to...

"You didn't tell me that you were offered the opportunity to be transported out of the fighting!" Nyota said, being sure to give him an exaggerated scowl – she knew she had to exaggerate her expressions for Spock to read her emotions.

Spock tilted his head. Nyota was very good at reading head tilts. This was a confused tilt.

"My actions were the only ones that could be deemed appropriate in the circumstances based on my obligations to Starfleet," Spock said. "I did not see there was anything noteworthy in -"

"I know," she said as she smiled and pressed two fingers to the screen. Spock put two fingers to the screen in response.

"It's one of the reasons I love you."

And it was. He did the right and difficult thing and never considered that there was an alternative. She raised an eyebrow. "But I still hated hearing the story from Patrick O'Hara first..."

Spock blinked. "I assure you I did not inform Lieutenant Commander O'Hara -"

"I know. Rumors are starting to surface around the Academy about everything that happened on Epsilon 1235...probably from the colonists themselves."

From behind Spock, Nyota heard a man's voice saying, "Wow, I didn't know Vulcans used duct tape."

"They're calling you a hero, Spock, at Starfleet - " Nyota said.

Spock looked down.

A feminine voice responded in clipped tones that could only be from a Vulcan. "In point of fact, Vulcans invented duct tape."

Nyota continued, not sure how much time she had left. "Some people are saying with the leadership you displayed, you'll make Commander before you are thirty."

"Nyota, I assure you," Spock said quietly, "I accomplished no extraordinary feats of leadership. I only did my duty -"

A male human voice said in the background, "I can't believe Vulcans invented duct tape…I mean, it's kind of tacky."

Spock swallowed. "I attempted to help where I could. My part in leading was minimal to nonexistent…"

The voice of the female Vulcan said, "Of course it is tacky; that is the point. It is also water-resistant…"

"Water-proof," said the male human voice.

Spock took a deep breath. He did not scowl or frown...perhaps it was the tension in his jaw or the way his gaze drifted away from hers...whatever it was, he looked completely and utterly annoyed. "Excuse me. Nyota, we are about to be interrupted."

As if on cue another voice arose. "Lieutenant Commander Spock, Lieutenant Commander Spock, I don't mean to interrupt your call..."

Spock looked up from the camera, "Yes, Ensign Singh?"

"It is water-resistant, as any Vulcan can tell you…and I assure you it was invented by Vulcans," the female Vulcan voice said.

The voice of Ensign Singh came over the comm again. "One of the colonists is arguing with one of the Vulcans about duct tape again…"

Nyota's mouth opened. Again? She covered her mouth to hide her smile...Spock looked down from Ensign Singh and raised an eyebrow at her.

"So how is that cultural interpreter thing going, Spock?" she laughed.

Spock stared at her. His eyes narrowed.

"What?" said a clearly-agitated human voice. "You can't believe that humans invented anything useful?"

"Wasn't it used on the ship Zefram Cochrane used during First Contact?" Nyota asked.

Spock raised an eyebrow, probably shocked that she would know such a thing - the things you learned from your older brother. "Yes…I must go now, Nyota."

"…before there is an interspecies incident?" Nyota said with a smile.

"Indeed." Spock said with a nod…he looked like he was about to say something and then the screen abruptly went black. Nyota felt very empty.

Putting her fingers against the screen, she whispered, "I love you, too, Spock.."

x

"Duct tape was invented by humans during their second world war," Spock said in his most even tones. He clenched his hands behind his back. He was furious. Singh could have said this; he'd heard Spock repeat the phrase on two occasions, but Vulcans didn't trust human memories - and apparently didn't deem it worthy of their time to pass this information along. So instead he had to cut short his subspace call to Nyota -

"Fascinating," said the female Vulcan.

"Told you so," said the colonist.

"I have not forgotten that you told me," said the Vulcan as she used a strip of duct tape to attach a battered piece of metal over some instrument panels on the outside of the hover.

Spock looked at the two of them. Would it be logical to affix a strip of duct tape to both their mouths? He observed them carefully. Sadly, it would appear unwarranted. Despite their bickering, the human man and Vulcan woman were working together extremely well.

"Vulcans have very precise memories," she continued, "and in any event, it was only three minutes ago that you first made your claim."

The two were repairing a battered hover craft to carry Spock, Singh, Giotto and a contingent of Vulcans to some remote but strategically important power lines. Technically Spock wasn't on duty, but he'd wanted to take advantage of the hover's ability to transfer a clear signal to the subspace array on the Vulcan ship...and, of course, been dragged into his unofficial duties as cultural interpreter.

Singh also wasn't on duty...but he was here, in the very early hours of the morning, which meant...

The Ensign looked at him. "Sir, if you don't mind, I would like to -" he pointed towards the hover and the comm unit.

"Go ahead," said Spock. Singh smiled and ducked into the hover entrance.

"Lieutenant Commander," called a Vulcan from a group of Vulcan Defense Force members sitting a few meters away. "Would you care to join us for some rations?"

"You know," the colonist said, "There is something you will never hear a human where I'm from saying: 'I don't think duck tape will fix it'"

Spock sighed inwardly. Another cultural miscommunication was coming...

"That is ridiculous," the Vulcan female said.

Ahh...as expected.

"...There are certainly many things duct tape cannot fix." She added, "Anything that will be fully immersed in water for extended periods of time, for instance."

Spock glanced at the human male. He was smiling at this diatribe...Spock blinked. That was unexpected. He looked back to the Vulcan female. Spock found the expressive faces of human women more attractive, but if he were objective...the Vulcan female's features were symmetrical, her lips were full, and her frame was well-proportioned.

"And why are you suddenly calling it duck tape?" the Vulcan woman continued. "I can see no association between this pressure sensitive tape and aquatic waterfowl."

Her voice was very flat. She did not look at the man...but...if Spock thought about it, she was engaging this man in a rather lengthy discussion about...duct tape.

Spock's eyes flickered a few more moments between the two. Interspecies incident indeed. Suddenly, it seemed a good time to flee. He decided to take the Vulcan soldiers up on their offer of rations. He nodded at them and headed over in their direction - and to blessed silence and relationships of unambiguous intentions.

Ensigh Singh called the soldiers of the Vulcan Defense Force "the Vulcan grunts." They were certainly not the Vulcans Spock had grown up with. None of them would ever have applied to the Vulcan Science Academy.

Spock actually held them in some esteem. They were rough around the edges, but stoic, and logical-just ordinary Vulcans. Spock found their presence very soothing. Respectful of rank, they never commented on his mixed heritage in a negative way. They were quiet and never asked him any personal questions.

As Spock approached, one of the Vulcan soldiers, Kavack, threw him a Vulcan ration packet. "It is as heavy as lead and tastes like the dirt in T'kol'ni'ar..."

One of Spock's eyebrows jumped involuntarily. Vulcans didn't use metaphors...and that was more information than he would have expected from a Vulcan.

"I know because I have tasted the dirt in T'kol'ni'ar," Kavack continued. "But it supplies all essential nutrients and more calories than the human rations."

Spock tilted his head as he sat down next to the Vulcan soldiers. It was very un-Vulcan to comment on the taste of a food whose purpose was strictly functional.

One of the other Vulcans said flatly, "Kavack's illogical tendency is a predisposition to tasteful food."

Spock blinked...to declare any tendency illogical was a huge insult...Maybe his breakfast wasn't going to be as peaceful as he had thought.

He expected Kavak to deny the charge, but instead the Vulcan replied, "As Surak says, we all have our illogical tendencies." Taking a bite, Kavak swallowed without chewing, looked at Spock and said, "If I swallow bites whole, the taste is not as off-putting."

But Spock was only partially listening. "I have read the writings of Surak in their entirety and nowhere is it written that we all have our illogical tendencies."

Kavak looked at him, face expressionless. "I learned it from my grandmother, and she was the Elder of my village."

Another Vulcan soldier said, "Surak said no Vulcan can be completely logical...and to deny the existence of our illogical tendencies is the height of illogic...so said my Grandfather."

Spock stared at the other soldier. "Surak, most certainly never said that."

The two soldiers looked at each other; then they looked at Spock.

"You are an ambassador's son. Of course you would not know these things," Gavak said.

The other soldier nodded in agreement. "You are high-born. You would not know."

At a loss for words, Spock stared at them. Among the upper echelons of Vulcan society it was taken for granted that ordinary Vulcans were not fully-educated. It never occurred to him that ordinary Vulcans might take the same view of people in his class.

Obviously there was some oral history of common Vulcans that he had missed out on. That didn't mean this oral history represented the true teachings of Surak...but he couldn't argue that it did not. To do so would mean arguing that their grandparents had lied - which, being that they were Vulcans was highly unlikely, as was the possibility that they had misunderstood, or remembered inaccurately - none of which could be proven. It would be like arguing about the existence of a supreme deity.

Opening the proffered Vulcan ration packet, Spock took a bite. He had never tasted the dirt of T'kol'ni'ar...but...he swallowed the piece of ration as fast as he could to keep from having to chew.

As he finished the last piece of ration...it was calorie-dense and literally as heavy as lead-Ensign Singh approached. "Sir, Captain Pike is in communication with the Vulcan ship in orbit. They'd like to patch him through to you."

Nodding, Spock stood up and left his Vulcan companions. He was halfway to the hover when he realized he hadn't said goodbye...and then he relaxed, realizing it was Vulcans he was dealing with. He had caused no offense.

x.

It was only sixteen hours since their last subspace call...but Nyota wasn't surprised when Spock called again. She knew what he was going to say and knew he'd want to deliver the news to her more directly than in an email.

Answering the comm, she found his shoulders slightly slumped. He looked down and didn't say anything for a moment.

Smiling sadly, she said, "I know. It's all over the subspace arrays that tours are being extended to fifteen months..."

Spock exhaled. "I am sorry. I wanted to tell you myself..."

He looked up at her. She felt like crying. Blinking back tears, she nodded quietly.

He tilted his head. "Did you hear of the Farragut's destination, Nyota?"

Spock straightened a little. "They will be at Epsilon 1235 in about three weeks, after rendezvousing with a transport carrying engineers and aid workers...after that they will head to Altair 25 to dock for approximately a month and a half for complete repairs."

Nyota's mouth opened. Altair 25 was a planet just within Federation space, only a few light years from the neutral zone. It had a Starfleet base, complete space dock and repair facilities...the location of the planetside base itself was considered to be the Hawaii of that quadrant. And...

"That is the same time I'll be on winter break..." she said quietly, not daring to hope.

"Indeed," said Spock, equally as quiet. "Apparently, Pike has managed to get the crew lodgings planetside at the base...although I will still be on duty, I will work normal hours..." He looked up at her. "I could not entertain you during work hours; perhaps you would be quite bored..."

"Spock!" Nyota said suddenly, her heart starting to lift.

"Yes, Nyota?" he said quietly.

"I'm coming!"

Spock began speaking quickly. "I have already looked into available commercial transports. I will send you the schedules so you can choose the one that is most convenient to you. Also, although officer's quarters are provided, it is not required that we stay there. In my research I have located some cabins near the beach that are more...secluded, and yet offer better access to the various tourist destinations planetside so you will have plenty to do."

Nyota started laughing. "My Spock! Ever thorough..."

Spock briefly bumped his forehead against the comm screen and then brought his fingers up to touch it. Nyota heard a low rumble from the speakers. Humming, she brought her fingers up to the screen to touch his.


	24. Epilogue : Golarth

**Disclaimer: I don't own Klingons, Pike or Vulcans**

Special thanks to Notes from the Classroom for betaing!

**Epilogue : Golarth**

"They don't accept your theory, Golarth," said Pike, refilling the goblet with the dark sweet nectar. Prune juice, the warriors' drink - Golarth took a long swig to calm himself. They were in Pike's ready room once again, just as they'd been after Nadock's previous misguided, though nobly inspired, act of insurrection.

And just as last time, the small human poured himself only a tiny shot.

Pike tipped back his glass. "They see it as impossible that the disappearing ships could be the result of a rogue group."

Normally, Golarth didn't mind being thought of as an idiot. Among his fellow Klingons, mental prowess was not held in high esteem, and it was useful in tactical situations to be regarded as inferior.

Other times it made him want to disembowel someone with a dull t'arin'gh-fruit spoon. Golarth resisted the urge to slam his goblet down on Captain Pike's ready room table.

Over ten clanships had been destroyed, his Empire was crowing for war with the Federation - they were so close to being the puppets of some unknown adversary...and the Vulcans were locked into the idea that it was the work of an organized government.

It was fortunate that the Epsilon 1235 incident had occurred. Federation casualties outnumbered Klingon casualties. For now, Klingon blood lust was partially sated, but for how long?

"I have gotten you full access to the morgue on Epsilon 1235. You'll be able to identify the bodies of Klingons responsible for the attack on the colony, and their collaborators." He stared hard at Golarth. "And hopefully you'll be able to keep any more incidents like these from occurring."

"And hopefully the Federation will keep a better watch on its freighters," Golarth growled.

x

The Farragut's engineers beamed Golarth, his second in command, Warloff, and their six guards directly into the morgue.

He immediately found himself face to face with one of the Gray Guardsman...Novasch, he thought it was, T'Quilloc, his keeper, and six Vulcan soldiers. He could contain his anger no more.

"You will not even consider the possibility that the disappearing ships are the work of a rogue group!" he shouted. He didn't care if they knew where he'd gotten the intelligence from.

"We have a common enemy," T'Quilloc said. "This outburst is unnecessary."

"I disagree!" Golarth shouted. Did they feel no shame, no outrage, at being manipulated by the invisible strings of their common enemy?

"A rogue group would not have been able to develop the type of superior technology capable of making whole ships completely vanish," T'Quilloc said.

The Gray Guardsman, Novasch, spoke. "Your sincerity of belief does not make the possibility any less remote."

So they were in his mind...of course. Golarth hissed in the Gray Guardsman's direction.

"Ships have been disappearing for at least a decade and a half," Golarth snarled, "in circumstances matching the profiles of recent events...it is too long for a large bureaucracy to keep that sort of program a secret...

"Vulcans" he spat, "...believe large governments are responsible for anything impressive..." He spat again. "Collectivist insects..."

"And you come from a society of tribal clans, which is why your logic is so faulty on this matter," T'Quilloc said.

Golarth snarled. He had the urge to hurl one of the nearby tables at her.

"That would be unwise," said the Guardsman. Suddenly the Vulcan sentries raised their weapons in unison. Behind him Golarth heard the click of Klingon rifles.

"We have nothing more to speak of," finished Novasch.

Golarth wasn't certain, but he sensed something alien in his consciousness...a feeling...irritation...annoyance...a thought..._Nothing to be learned here..._

"Get out!" he snarled at Novasch. The worst hubris was Vulcan hubris.

"We will leave you," said T'Quilloc. The two turned in unison and strode from the morgue. Their guards remained.

Golarth turned to Warloff and nodded. The young officer met his gaze.

The two of them began surveying all the bodies in the morgue one by one, carefully reviewing the meticulous notes of their Vulcan hosts...Occasionally banging in frustration the tiny data PADDS designed for delicate hands.

Golarth wasn't a scientist...but he was a hunter. They would identify all the bodies of those responsible for this breach of the Empire's authority...then hunt down their families and punish them.

They started with the Klingons, then the Cardassians, and lastly began examining the Romulans.

"Warloff," hissed Golarth, after slamming a PADD impatiently on a table. "No Romulans were captured alive."

Warloff's eyes opened. "Then the mind rapers could not have interrogated them..."

Warloff tilted his head...Golarth could see the thoughts racing ...

Warloff picked up a PADD and Golarth began carefully examining their bodies with his hands, eyes and nose. Hunters could be as thorough as scientists...

About forty-five minutes later Warloff hissed, "Sir, look at this."

He showed the screen to Golarth.

Golarth snorted. "Evidence of facial scarring in the lower dermis on three of them...but they bear no outward traces. They had some sort of external markings that have been completely removed..."

Warloff hissed...

Golarth took the PADD and flicked through several screens. The scarring was too regular to be from battle...he could even make out patterns - symmetrical whorls...it was familiar...

"Based on the type of scarring, they were probably tattoos," snarled Warloff.

"Agreed," said Golarth.

Golarth had worked in the service of the Klingon Empire for many years; during that time he had fought Romulans of the Romulan Empire. He'd also dealt with free Romulans as an agent of Klingon intelligence on backwater worlds.

...In twenty years he'd only seen tattoos on a Romulan once - and they were similar to these patterns. The Romulan had been at a haven for smugglers and slavers seeking to buy supplies, metal, food, fuel...Golarth had never seen the Romulan or any others bearing the likes of those tattoos again.

And now here were three Romulans with the markings, yet they'd gone to efforts to hide them...

"The tattoos were tribal markings," hissed Warloff with certainty.

Golarth began to salivate. He suddenly felt like he'd caught the scent of his true quarry.

**A/N:**

Just a little thing to remind everyone of the situation in the larger galaxy…I was going to take "The Vulcan" all the way to the end of the movie, but I think Descartes got too long, and went on too many tangents. I will write stories up until that point though (more Novasch…more Jabari…Rhin!)

Next in this series is "Reunion". Its quite a bit lighter.

If you enjoyed this story, please consider checking out my original fiction. **Publishing original stories is how I keep my husband off my back for writing so much fanfiction!** "Murphy's Star" is a short story, it is sort of the Spock/Uhura baby!fic I will never write (because when I was writing it my husband nagged me into making it an original story). It is only 99 cents. Links are in my profile.

If you like mythology you might like my "I Bring the Fire" series. The first part of the series is only 99 cents, and stars Myth!Loki. There is a free excerpt in "My Stories", links to it and the sequel "Monsters" are in my profile.

And of course I have loads of free fanfiction!

Thanks again!


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